Page 29 of Daddy By Design

The horror movies, the all black clothes, and rude T-shirts were just a few notable parts of her. Her long dark hair was a few shades darker than my own. But I also remembered the big, wounded eyes. She’d wanted to believe in my mother and father. I’d watched her get harder each year, and with every passing one, I’d stayed away for longer chunks of time.

Guilt, as heavy as the metal I forced to bend to my will, tried to crush me.

My hand stilled on the door handle of the café when I spotted her behind the counter. Her hair was short now. Almost severe with a strip of teal blended through the choppy bangs in the front. She was smiling at someone working beside her. A lush blond with ahuge friendly smile and pink cheeks. Both women were wearing the same aprons featuring the logo for Brewed Awakening, only my sister was in her usual black and the blond was in a cotton candy pink.

“Coming or going, man?” A voice came from behind me.

“Sorry.” I swung the door open, and the guy followed me in. He was my height but had me by at least twenty pounds of muscle. He had sawdust on his shoulders and in the creases of his work pants.

He went right to the counter and my sister gave him a devilish smile. “What are you doing back so early?” She rushed around the counter and jumped into his arms.

I rocked back on my heels. I knew she was married, but I’d only seen a grainy photo from the local newspaper. I knew his name was John Gideon and that I had a niece and nephew—one by blood.

“I got back early.” He boosted her up and gave her an unexpectedly hot kiss for the middle of a café.

I looked away. It seemed far too intimate for me to watch. I knew I didn’t know a damn thing about her life anymore, but this seemed like an even bigger rift than I imagined. When I’d deposited her here all those years ago, that had been the last time I’d seen her. We’d fought before I left.

Her blaming me for always escaping when things got hard.

She was right.

I didn’t have any defense against her claims, and I’d run back to Chicago and thrown myself back into work.

And the time had gotten longer between contacts.

Until there were none.

She slid down the big dude’s body and reached around to pinch his ass.

God, kill me. She stepped back, and then our gazes locked.

Shock widened her eyes and her icy blue gaze slammed into me. Those eyes, so much like our mother’s. I carried our father’s dark, dark blue.

She pushed the big dude aside and stalked over to me. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Hey, Mace.”

“Don’t ‘hey, Mace’ me. You have the nerve to walk in here with just a ‘hey, Mace.’” Her shock and anger slid into worry right before she pushed my hair back. “What the hell?”

I leaned back, away from her touch. “Don’t.”

“What the hell happened?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Doesn’t matter? You look like Michael Myers took aim at your freaking face.”

The laugh surprised me. There weren’t many reasons for me to laugh anymore. “Not quite.”

The dude she’d been kissing—I sure as hell hoped it was her husband—came up beside her. “Everything okay?”

“That remains to be seen.” Macy leaned back against him, but her arms were folded tightly across her chest. “Gideon, meet my big brother, Nolan Devereaux.”

Gideon curled his fingers over her shoulder. Protective, assessing, and clearly instantly on guard, he lifted his chin to stare at me. Also, he was a little menacing.

I couldn’t say I was mad at the fact that he had her back—quite literally. I certainly hadn’t had it in a damn long time.

I nodded. “Hi.” I shook my hair forward to hide the worst of my scars. The whole of the dining room of her café was already staring at us. “I, uh...thought we could talk, maybe.”

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