Page 96 of Beautiful When He Breaks

My parents are gone. Their voices are gone. The threat in my father’s face, the sick little sorrow in my mother’s, the whole ugly performance of family and shame and money and control—gone from the front steps, at least for now.

Inside, it’s warm and bright and full of people who look at me like I matter for reasons that don’t need church language or obedience attached to them.

Julian is standing with Mila tucked against his chest, one broad hand splayed across her little back. He doesn’t say anything right away, and that helps. I probably would’ve cracked straight down the middle if he did.

I stand there for one beat too long, trying to get my breathing under control and pull my expression into something less obviously wrecked. It doesn’t work. I know it doesn’t from the way Julian’s whole face changes when I finally meet his gaze.

He shifts Mila a little higher against his chest. “Eli.”

That’s all he says, just my name again. I walk toward them because standing alone in the foyer suddenly feels impossible.

“Can I take her?” I ask.

He hands Mila over immediately, and she settles against me with a little sleepy sigh, warm and solid and real enough to keep me upright. I bury my face against the top of her head for one second and breathe in baby lotion, milk, and the clean softness of her skin until I can trust my voice again.

I’ve just told my parents they mean nothing to me now, and the first thing my body does when they’re gone is anchor itself to my daughter.

Luca walks out of the kitchen with some of the other guys, his face already sharpened by whatever he read in mine before I even crossed the threshold. Killian is farther back in the hallway, holding his phone, expression carved into that cold control he slips into whenever something threatens the house. Thorn pushes off the wall, and Adrian lingers half a step behind him, mug in hand, gaze steady and unreadable as always. Roman and Ryan are still in the kitchen doorway, both of them bristling visibly, Roman more obviously because subtlety was never part of his design.

“What happened?” Luca asks first.

I laugh once, but it comes out ugly and tired. “Apparently, my family’s even more fucked up than I thought.”

I look around at all of them and realize I don’t have enough hands for what I’m carrying. Mila, the fight, the revelation about Brendon, the fresh wound of hearing my father compare me to his sister’s son as if disowning children is just some family tradition people pass down like recipes.

“They came to threaten me again,” I say. “Same old shit. Marry Celeste. Do the right thing. Stop embarrassing the family. Pride dressed up as God. I told them to keep their money and stay the fuck away from me and my daughter.”

“Beautifully done,” Roman mutters under his breath.

Normally, that would get at least half a laugh out of me, but not today.

“My dad said something out there about Brendon,” I tell them. “My cousin from Lakehaven? Apparently, my aunt disowned him. They cut him off for being with a guy.”

Julian’s eyes widen. “What?”

“Yeah,” I say, looking between him and Luca. They’ve met Brendon before, and we always have a few drinks together whenever we play against Lakehaven. “That was pretty much my reaction too.”

Julian mutters something in Afrikaans under his breath that I don’t fully catch, but I know enough by now to hear the curse in it. He reaches out and touches my elbow lightly. “You didn’t know any of it?”

“No,” I say, and hearing the helplessness in my own voice pisses me off immediately. “I had no fucking idea.”

Luca watches me carefully. “You want to call him?”

I wanted to call Brendon the second my father mentioned what happened. “Yeah, I do.”

Julian glances down at Mila, then back at me. “You want privacy?”

I look at him and then at Luca, both of them standing there like they’d follow me into hell if I asked. The thought of being alone right now makes my stomach twist.

“No,” I say quietly. “Can you two come with me? No offense, guys. Luca and Jules know Bren, and—”

“None taken, Matthews. Go call your cousin,” Thorn says and walks into the kitchen, pulling Roman in with him.

Up in my room, Julian takes Mila from me and sets her in the playpen by the window with a soft football plush, blissfully unconcerned by the fact that my family keeps shattering itself in fresh and inventive ways. Luca leans against the dresser with his arms folded, saying nothing, just present in that solid, captain-like way of his.

I stare at Brendon’s name on my contacts for a second longer than I should before I hit call and put it on speaker. It rings four times, and I start thinking maybe he won’t answer, and then on the fifth ring the line clicks.

“Lane residence,” a man says dryly, and there’s enough amusement buried in the words that I can’t tell if he’s joking or just naturally insufferable.