Page 32 of Daddy By Design

“You hurt her. And I get that family does that from time to time, but now she’s my family.”

Not mine. That was definitely loud and clear.

“I just want her to know I’m here. I’m not going anywhere this time.”

“Guess we’ll see.” Gideon slid out and stood.

“I bought the Barrows’ house on the lake.”

Gideon whistled. “That’s not a small place.”

“Nope. But it’s mine. I want to get to know my sister again—if she’ll let me.”

“I’ll let her know where you are. It’s her decision to make.”

I nodded. “Fair.”

I slid out of the booth as the lightning squiggle of an optical chased the pain from the regular headache. I needed to get out of there before I was incapacitated. “I’ll get out of your hair. I don’t expect you to understand or give a damn that I want a relationship with my sister, but I’m really glad she found someone. You guys seem tight.”

“I love her more than anything on this planet other than our kids. I also won’t hesitate to tie you to a cement median and dump you in the lake if you hurt her again.”

I laughed and the pain of it almost put me on my knees. “That’s the kind of love she deserves, man.”

“I know it.” Gideon jerked his head toward the door back to the café side. “Give her some time, she needs to stew.”

“Got it.”

Thankful for the darkness, I blindly made my way to the café side. Then I took a seat at one of the tables farthest from the window to wait out the pain and the storm outside.

Even if the storm inside me had just begun.

NINE

“Great timing on going out to eat.” I leaned forward in my seat to rub against the condensation on my car windshield.

My kitchen was still in shambles and there was no way I could cook. I should have just gone over to Lonegan’s for a bite or to the diner down the street, but I wanted the perfect pancakes at the Rusty Spoon.

I didn’t know why, but they always tasted better than anywhere else. I’d gotten addicted to them when I’d been renovating Macy’s place and then reacquainted with them when I’d worked on The Haunt.

Mitch made the perfect bacon too.

My stomach grumbled at the idea of it.

Then the heavens opened up when I was halfway to Crescent Cove.

I kept trying the dials on my heater to help with my foggy window, but the air wasn’t strong enough to combat the rain and my own hot ass breath inside the car. “C’mon.” I finally hit Main Street and pulled off into the nearest parking spot to wait out the monsoon.

It wouldn’t last long—they rarely did in the summer. Okay, so it wasn’t quite summer, but it was close enough with the heat we were experiencing the first week of May.

“I just wanted pancakes,” I whined to myself as the windshield wipers squeaked and shuddered against the torrential rain.

I sighed. With nothing else to do, I pulled out my phone. I answered a few emails, then a thank you text from Amberly, who was excited to redo her bedroom to cheer herself up.

It was the least I could do.

At least my poor credit cards wouldn’t take another hit, or my meager savings, to pay for the damages to the apartments. I’d spent an hour talking to my renter’s insurance agent and I deserved the pancakes, dammit. I didn’t want to think about my new increased premiums, but that was a problem for future Dahlia.

Now I was rewarding myself for adulting with carbs.

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