Page 90 of Broken Dreams

Tonight, we’re putting together Linus’ large swing for the nest. After we cleaned up and changed, of course. I’ve never had a hotter voyeur experience than watching Linus tease us. Shaking my head as I remember, I get started on the work ahead of me with Callum.

I bought a second swing for the patio area where our courtyard is located. It felt perfect for that space. I want our home to have all the little nooks they need to snuggle and hang out.

The swing decided to be difficult, but Callum and I managed to get it together, though it took longer than expected.

“These instructions are trash,” my brother grumbles, tossing them over his shoulder. “This clearly goes into this piece, and then it’ll be ready to be hung.”

“That’s what you’d think,” I mutter. “These instructions aren’t very helpful.”

Together, we get the swing hung from the ceiling before looking at it and then each other.

“Moment of truth. Whose big ass is going to make sure it doesn’t fall down?” I ask.

Rolling his eyes, Callum sits down gingerly before lifting his feet to see if it’ll bear his weight. This is supposed to hold up to six hundred pounds.

The swing doesn’t complain, the ceiling hardware doesn’t bend under the weight of his body.

“Mission accomplished,” I breathe, watching for anything that might go wrong as he hoists himself out of the swing. “Next one?”

“Fuck, why not,” he says with a snort, cleaning up. “We already know what not to do from this one.”

Walking downstairs, we throw out our trash before hauling the large swing box outside to put together. Just as we’re getting into things, my phone buzzes. God, what now?

“Hello?” I answer, once I’ve confirmed it’s not from my forwarded line.

“Duncan,” Ayla says, her voice full of pain. My knees drop out from underneath me, the sting from the concrete pavers on my knees easily ignored in the face of it.

“Do you need me to come get you?” I ask, hoping she’ll say yes.

It’ll sure as shit fix so many problems if she just left Hudson.

“I have nowhere to go, Sweet Boy,”she says, and my brother freezes once he hears her voice over the speaker.

His ass hits the ground as well, and I feel like a child again.

“Live with us,” Callum says, swallowing thickly. “Quinn is our scent match, Ayla. She’s here. Please leave.”

“Is he home?” I ask. “He’s using you against your daughter. Please, don’t let him.”

“It would probably be better if I just wasn’t here anymore,” she sighs, her voice reminding me of the sound of old paper. “This is all my fault anyway.”

“I highly doubt that,” I bark out. “Did you kidnap her as a child?”

“No, but I’m the reason it happened.”

“Hold that thought,” Callum says, eyes wild and fearful. “Ayla, Quinnie should hear this. Is Hudson home?”

“Not yet,”she whispers.

Ayla sounds so beaten down, so fucking tired with life. I’d be suicidal too if I had to deal with everything she has.

“Then we’re coming,” I growl. “Do you know how to turn off the cameras?”

“Yes, but wouldn’t he know if I did that?”she asks.

“It’ll be for three seconds, then Callum can loop the recording so you won’t be seen leaving,” I explain.

My brother nods that he can do that, and we wait for her agreement. It won’t do anyone any good if we’re stuck at the gates.

---