Page 46 of The Sweetest Chirp

As hers.

“Thatcher.”

My smile turns feral as I squeeze her hand, forgetting that we’re in a room full of our families. It isn’t until my mom speaks that I remember we’re not alone. “So, obviously, he wants to be with Audrina, but she’s holding out.”

“Because he broke her heart. Don’t forget that,” Anya snarks at my mom.

They glare, and I shake my head.

I’m pretty sure it’s going to be easier for Audrina to fall back in love with me than it will be for our moms to stay out of our business.

CHAPTER TWENTY

“How’s your knee?”

At Don’s question, I glance up from where I am sitting on the floor with Ingrid, Maeve, and my mom. Arwen sits in front of us, pouring us “tea” after Thatcher brought in a box of toys. Once we told everyone we weren’tdiscussing the past, only doing what’s best for Arwen, they all flocked to her like bees to honey. For as long as I can remember, our moms have always been in our business. I knew they would make everything even more complicated than it already was if I came back, but they’re somewhat respecting our wishes. I didn’t know that I could ask that of them, that I could come home and keep the worst part of my life in the past where it belongs. I’m still a bit worried with how Mom and Maeve throw little jabs at each other, but that’s their relationship.

They gently bully each other to show love.

Still, I fully expected mutiny. Instead, I got understanding. I got support. Maybe not all from my family and his, but completely from Thatcher. His honesty is so damn sexy, and I can’t help but think of our conversation before we were found by Maeve. He made it seem like he had so much more to say, like there was more to what happened that day. And as much as I know I shouldn’t want to know, I do. He says we both played the what-if game, and I wonder how his went. Is he as stricken as I am? Has he been lost?

Jesus, why do I care?

I can’t let this man close again.

I look over at where Thatcher is on his phone, typing away. I hadn’t even known his knee was causing him pain. He never brought it up, nor did I ask, because surely he is healed by now. He has been playing, from what I’ve read over the years, and he’s having a stellar season. The IceCats are doing great, and things are looking very Cup-worthy, but even I know not to utter the name of the Cup.

I try not to watch Thatcher, but it’s so damn hard. He’s leaned back in the wingback chair, his long legs out in front of him in a lazy pose that is positively mouthwatering. He still has his black IceCats hat turned backward, pieces of his hair falling through the adjustable opening. He strokes the hair along hisjaw as he scrolls through his phone, and I remember how that hair felt against my lips, my cheek, which isn’t good. He’s too damn good-looking for his own good, and the way he stood up for me, even though he promised he would, still caught me off guard. He looks up from his phone, sending his dad a sheepish grin. “Sorry, Dad. I lied,” he admits. “I wasn’t hurt. I just needed to get Audrina and Arwen set up, and I needed a few days for that.”

I didn’t realize he had taken off from the IceCats. I should have known; I mean, it’s mid-season, but I guess everything was so overwhelming at the time that I forgot about his career.

Which makes me feel like a jackass.

His dad’s brows pull in. “Was everyone okay with that?”

He nods with full certainty. “Yeah. I go back to practice tomorrow. They were supportive when I said I had to bring my daughter and her mother home.”

Her mother.

Why do I bristle at that? I am Arwen’s mother. A title I am proud of, so why am I wishing I were more than that when he spoke to whoever the hell he talked to.

What is wrong with me?

He’s what’s wrong with me! He has me all discombobulated and confused. As ridiculous as it sounds, I think I’m waiting for his temper to rear its ugly head and tear me apart again. I am well aware he said he’s forgiven me, but the more his mom spoke, the more I worried that he’d feel that anger too. I did the unthinkable. I stole time from not only him, but Arwen. I tried to be both parents, but even I know I can’t be what Thatcher is for her. Right now, she’s looking at him, signing him for her box of dress-up clothes, little heart eyes just for him.

He nods to her and agrees to get them, even though he is talking to his dad. He’s so attentive to her. So totally in love with her, as I knew he would be. I wasn’t scared of him as a father. Iwas scared of bearing witness, because I knew…fuck, I knew it’d make him utterly irresistible.

I’m doing pretty damn well resisting him.

I haven’t fallen pussy- or mouth-first on his cock, which is a huge win.

But I have been drinking him in like I’m dehydrated.

Which I know is pathetic.

As he walks out of the kitchen, pulling his keys from his pocket, Mom asks me, “Are you moving in to his apartment?”

I shake my head and feel five sets of eyes on me. I instantly feel the loss of Thatcher’s presence and support, but I don’t need it. I am just fine. With a trembling voice, I answer, “No, he has a roommate. I assumed Arwen and I could stay with you.”

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