Page 25 of Commit

“It’s the girl.”

“Emma?”

I shake my head. “No, Starling,” I say quietly, checking the doorway.

He’s quiet for a moment, thinking over what I just said. Atlas is smart. He’ll have already started forming a picture.

“What about her?”

“I want her.” There, I said it.

“So take her.”

Okay, so maybe Atlas wasn’t the best person to discuss this with.

“She’s seventeen and my son’s girlfriend.”

“Wait, I thought she was the stepsister?”

“She’s that too.”

“When does she turn eighteen?”

“Ten days.”

“Not that you’re counting or anything. I’m sure you can wait that long, especially since I can’t even remember the last time I actually saw you with a woman.”

“Did you forget the part where I said she was my son’s girlfriend?”

“No, but you’re acting like I should care. I don’t. If you want her, then take her.”

“And if she doesn’t want to be taken?” I pinch the bridge of my nose, trying to shut out the little voice in my head that agrees with Atlas.

“If she cares about the boy, use it. Not to sound like a dick or anything, but you’re thinking like a father, and you’re not. You never have been. You made your choices, and I respect you more because of it. I know most people won’t understand, but they don’t live in the same world we do. Abbot might share your blood, but you’re not his dad, and he’s not your son. What he is is your competition. And you know what he has that you don’t?”

“What?”

“Your girl. The question is, what are you going to do about it?”

He hangs up, not telling me why he called to begin with.

I lean on the counter and take several deep breaths, trying to separate Atlas’s words from my dark-seated feelings. As fucked-up as Atlas is, he’s right.

I’m not a good guy. I’ve been trying to act like one since Eloise died because that’s what’s expected of me. Despite everything I do, I love Abbot and Landon, but they were her sons, not mine. I gave up any rights I had to them the day I walked away. I can support Abbot through this time and help get him to college without stepping into the father role, something I think he’d prefer.

People talk about mending bridges. But the truth is, when those bridges have been burned, there’s nothing left to fix. All you have is a handful of ashes and a pocketful of regrets.

I open the camera app on my phone and find Starling in her room, sitting against the door, looking so fucking lost that it helps solidify my decision. I want her, and though she might deny it, I see a spark of interest in her eyes. Oh, she might hate herself for it, but I can work with that.

I jog upstairs, a plan already forming in my head. Stripping out of my clothes, I hurry through my shower and put on a suit worth a year’s worth of college tuition. I don’t need it today, not for what I’m about to do, but it’s a power play that feeds into our dynamic.

Should I feel bad that I’m manipulating a vulnerable young woman? Probably. But I don’t because the aim isn’t to rip her apart; it’s to put her back together. That girl is already broken. I doubt there is much I could do to make it worse, even if it doesn’t feel that way. I’ll show her, though. One day, she’ll come to me for everything because it will be second nature.

I knock on her door and wait. I hear movement on the other side before the door cracks open, and she peeks out. “Get changed. We’re going out.”

“Wait, what?”

“You have things you need to get for school. So does Abbot. We’re going shopping.”

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