Page 76 of Virgin Skin

“Silver linings,” I agree blandly.

Chapter 25

PISTON

My morning coffee sitslike lead in the pit of my stomach on the drive to Ink Slingers. It was too damn cold this morning to take my Harley, and having to be cooped up inside my car just feels like adding insult to injury for my already fried nerves. I don’t know how I’m going to work today with my eyes feeling like sandpaper after a sleepless night.

I drum my fingers against the steering wheel and Milo reaches over to put his hand on my thigh. I startle at his touch, so caught up in my own spiraling thoughts. I give him a twitch of a smile and he squeezes my leg.

“It’s going to be fine,” he says.

I grunt in response. Maybe he’s right, maybe he’s wrong. At this point the only option is to face the firing squad and see how everything shakes out. I swallow around the lump in my throat and squeeze the wheel a little tighter.

“Either way, I don’t have any regrets,” I say gruffly. I roll to a stop at a light and glance over at him. “And don’t worry, this isn’t going to affect shit between the two of you. He might be pissedat me, he might not want to see me again, but I promise that’s where the blame is going to stay. If anything, he’s convinced himself I took advantage of you.”

Milo snorts a laugh. “That’s true, you’ve completely corrupted me.”

I take a leaf out of his book and roll my eyes.

“He doesn’t get to pick and choose blame like that though,” he says after another second as I pull into the parking lot. “That’s how relationships work, right? We’re a team, a package deal. He can’t cut you out of his life and keep me.”

My chest tightens and I shake my head. “Hell no, that’s not how this is going down. You came here to find your dad and have a relationship with him. You’re not giving that up.”

“Chill, baby.” He unbuckles his seat belt and leans over to kiss my cheek. My heart flutters and I automatically glance around, afraid one of the guys will see him kissing me right in front of the shop. Then I remember it doesn’t matter. I still have to deal with the fallout, but Hero already knows. We don’t have to hide anymore.

I turn my face and catch his lips. Milo grins against my mouth and the kiss lingers for just a few seconds before I turn off the car and he pulls back.

“No one is giving up anything. We’re going to go in there and you two are going to sort your shit out. Got it?” he says firmly.

I arch an eyebrow. “Who’s the daddy now?”

“Apparently I am, until you two grow up and act like adults.”

I chuckle and then steady my nerves. Whatever happens, Milo is right—we’re going to have to sort our shit out. We’re family, after all. We’ve been family for fucking years. With Milo in the mix, it adds another layer, but it doesn’t change what’s always been true. We have each other’s backs, we fight through the hard shit, and we always come out the other side together.

“Alright, let’s do this.”

I unlock the front door and flip the Closed sign to Open, even though we don’t officially open for another half hour, but fuck knows none of us will remember to switch it if I don’t do it now. Tex and Brick are already inside, sipping coffee and talking. There’s no music on yet, which means Jag isn’t here. Small mercies. Maybe I can get this conversation over with before he shows up to stir the pot.

There’s a coffee cup at Hero’s station, but no sign of him. Milo lingers beside me, chewing on his nails in spite of the confident pep talk he was giving me just a minute ago.

“He’s probably in the back. Go do your thing and I’ll find him,” I say, giving him a little bump with my shoulder.

Milo gives me a skeptical look. “Maybe I should talk to him first.”

I shake my head. “No, I’m the one who crossed a line, I need to be the one to face it.”

He hesitates for a second, then sighs and heads for the front desk. Thankfully, Brick immediately distracts him by asking about the kittens and Milo lights up. He pulls out his phone and starts to show the two of them the dozens of pictures he took yesterday of Cy and the babies. Milo’s cheerful chatter gives me the strength to push myself to move again.

I find Hero in the back, just like I expected to, rummaging through the supplies.

“Hey,” I say, shoving my hands into my pockets and then awkwardly pulling them out again and crossing them over my chest. What do I usually do with my hands during a normal conversation? I can’t even remember right now.

Hero looks up and grunts in greeting. Is it a good sign that he doesn’t immediately go off on me for defiling his son or is he going the silent treatment route? Fuck, I hate the silent treatment.

I rub my hand along the back of my neck and force a smile that I’m sure looks more like a grimace.

“About what you saw last night…”

---