I accidentally swallow some of the unchewed cereal pieces and cough, my eyes bulging. Shaking my head, I press a hand to my sternum.
“What Auntie Bryce means to say, Abbie, is that no, she didn’t have a sleepover with me. She just needed somewhere to stay last night and couldn’t go home,” Darren says, interrupting from where he’s just joined us.
He leans against the side of the fridge with a mug of coffee inhis hand that I contemplate stealing and a CPFD shirt on with matching black sweats. His hair has gotten too long, but if I tell him to cut it, he’ll grow it even longer just to spite me. I’ll have to get Abbie to bring it up to him sometime.
The little girl beside me stares up at him with such blunt adoration. She’s always thought he was a superhero, and fuck, he sure acts like it with her. Abbie is his entire life. Oftentimes, I’ve wondered how he even has any room left for anyone else.
Swallowing the broken bits of cereal down my now scraped throat, I nod at Abbie.
“I slept in the spare room.”
“Oh. Why?”
“I forgot my house key,” I lie.
Darren coughs to cover a laugh. “You finish up your cereal, bug. I’m going to talk to Auntie Bryce in the living room for a couple of minutes.”
“Can I come to the living room too?” she asks, already starting to lift her bowl from the table.
Darren leaves his spot and goes over to her. She focuses her doe eyes on him, but he only tightens her curly pigtail, not giving in. “Not this time. I’m going to tell her about all the new additions to your Christmas list, and we can’t risk you hearing, or we won’t be able to get you the things you want.”
She gapes, nodding enthusiastically. “Okay, Dad.”
I head to the couch and flop down on the thick cushions, shutting my eyes. It’s an expensive couch, but it fits the space, considering his fancy tastes. The entire house was designed by him and then constructed by one of the top companies in the province.
He originally bought the lot with the original house five years ago for a few pennies and then tore it down and built this place from the ground up. Sasha, his ex-wife, hated what he decided to do with the new house, but then again, I don’t remember her liking anything about Darren besides the things he did to try and make her happy.
“You know I don’t have a problem with you coming here whenever you need to, Rye. But if you’re going to use my house as a hiding spot, you can at least tell me what’s going on,” he says.
I open my eyes when he lifts my feet from the last cushion and sits in their place. He drapes them over his thighs and pats my ankle.
“Don’t pretend like you have no idea why I’m here. You called and texted a million times yesterday.”
“And you didn’t respond once before I found you hiding out on my porch.”
“I’m not a raccoon.”
His deep laugh fills the room. “You’re not. But you are upset, so talk to me.”
I rub my temples, my shitty sleep last night catching up to me. “I’m sorry for lying to you about Daisy. It was never supposed to come out like that. Fu—Frick, it wasn’t supposed to come out at all.”
With a glance at the little girl humming under her breath at the table, I rule out her hearing my slip-up.
“You don’t have to apologize to me. I was more worried about you,” Darren says.
“I’m fine, D. You know that I don’t care what’s being said about me. My concern is Daisy.”
He nods. “And that’s why you’re here. Let me guess, you told her that you felt too guilty to go home last night, even though this isn’t your fault.”
“Itismy fault. That’s the problem.”
“Alright, let’s say it is your fault, then. What are you going to do about it?”
“I gave her the chance to walk away.”
Darren blows out a long breath, pushing further into the couch. “Of course you did.”
“What does that mean?”