Page 75 of Reclaim Me

“Hey, Ri? You want a tour?”

Her eyes light up. “Yes!”

I drop down on a knee in front of her, offering my back. “Do you want to ride on the Daddy Express while you get one?”

She doesn’t even answer; she just clambers up onto my back and giggles when I bounce her around and instruct her to put her seat belt on. With Riley secured on my back and Rae carrying the duffle bags behind me, we make our way through the house, going room by room until we make it upstairs, where all the bedrooms are. Rae has been quiet for most of the tour, letting me tell Riley stories about growing up here while she looks around and catalogs the few changes I’ve made since we lived here together.

There aren’t many. Some of the furniture is new, some of the finishes have been upgraded out of necessity, but it’s not the tribute to modernity that her house is. It’s a home, not a shrine. It’s old, but clean and comfortable. Well loved and lived in, which is what we always said we wanted the place we raised our children to be.

“And this—” I say, pausing just outside of the bedroom closest to mine “—is your room.”

Still holding Ri with one hand, I push the door open with the other, smiling when she lets out a gasp of delight as everything comes into view.

“Let me down!” She orders, wiggling out of my hold until I do exactly as she says. When her feet hit the floor, she makes a mad dash for the bed in the center of the room. It’s a twin-size bed with a white canopy around it and fairy lights woven around the posts. The comforter set is the one she picked out when we were on the phone the other night, and I got plushies to match it, which she’s now clutching in her hands as she rolls around on the bed.

“Don’t mess up the bed, Ri,” Rae warns her in a voice that’s pure indulgence and therefore carries no weight. “She’s not even listening, is she?”

“Nope, not even a little bit.”

“You did a good job with her room.”

We’re both in the doorway, but I’m taking up most of it. Rae is turned to the side, her breasts brushing my arm every time she pulls in a breath.

“Thanks,” I grind out.

“Me and her are going to have a time in that twin-size bed, though,” she says, shaking her head, completely unaware of what our close proximity is doing to me.

My brows pull together as I look down at her. “You’re not sleeping in here.”

Rae’s eyes snap up to mine. “Oh, but I thought, well, with Taurin in the other room and you using the guest room downstairs as an office…”

“You’re going to take my room, and I’m going to sleep on the couch.”

“Hunter, I don’t want to put you out of your bed.”

“You’re not putting me out of my bed. I’m putting you in it.”

The innuendo hangs between us for several long moments, during which Rae waits for me to take it back, and I wait for her to accept that I’m not going to. In the end, neither of us gets what we want because we’re forced to turn our attention to Riley as she sits up on the bed and says, “Can we get in the pool now?”

Rae answers first, probably because she’s used to having to be the primary person to address Riley’s wants and needs. “Yes, Nugget, just let me figure out what we’re going to do for dinner first.”

“Or,” I cut in. “You two can go ahead and get in the pool while I take care of dinner.”

Riley stands up on the bed and whoops with delight while Rae looks at me with surprise that breaks my heart etched into her features. I’ve always known that Aaron wasn’t a great co-parent—his lack of a bond with Riley has shown me that—but seeing it written on Rae’s face so plainly makes me want to break something.

Seven years.

He’s had them for seven years, and he hasn’t spent a single day cherishing them, supporting them, or loving them the way they deserve.

“Does that sound like a plan?” I ask, aiming the question in Rae’s direction but unsurprised when Riley answers with a resounding yes.

“Alright, then!” I clap my hands and force myself to start moving because if I don’t, I’m going to tell Rae she’s never going back to that worthless asshole again, and I’m not sure that will go over well. “I’ll see you two downstairs in your finest swimming gear.”

When Riley and Rae emerge in their bathing suits, sunglasses, and matching hats, I’m standing next to the grill, tending to the burgers and hot dogs—the only meat Riley eats—while my brother, Cal, demonstrates his ability to make the same conversation we have every month feel even more awkward than it did four weeks ago.

“And, you’re still,” he hesitates, never knowing how to ask if I’ve relapsed even though he inquires about my sobriety every time we talk.

“Yeah, Cal,” I snort, pulling a hot dog off of the grill before it burns. “I’m still clean, still working, still going to meetings and keeping my shit straight.”

---