Page 60 of Power Play with My Brother's Irish Friends

33

CHARLIE

I’d never been happier to climb into Patrick’s SUV. Miranda scooted in beside me and propped her head on my shoulder. “How are you?”

“Fine.” She’d said that everytime we asked, but I couldn’t help asking over and over again.

I slid an arm over her shoulders and let her head drop to my chest. “Watching you fall and not get back up again was the scariest thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“I’m sorry.” She nestled in closer and sighed. “I’ve wanted to tell all of you about the twins since I found out. I didn’t want you to find out this way.”

I waited for Duncan to come off with some smart remark about her putting it off, but he sat in the front passenger seat beside Patrick, his mouth a flat line and his gaze straight ahead.

“Thank you for not calling Austin.” She squeezed Duncan’s and then Patrick’s arms before stretching out her feet and lowering her head to my lap.

I played with her hair, fanning it across her shoulder, then sweeping my hands through the long strands. “Are you going to tell him?”

“Maybe. I just don’t want him to freak out. He’ll have a million questions about why I was on the ice with you three, and that conversation needs to be done in a way where he can’t come after you with any kind of blame. It’s not like I can tell him everything at once, you know?” The way she spoke reminded me of Austin, how he planned things out and executed them according to the setup. It served us all well on the ice, but I didn’t have the same confidence as Miranda that breaking things to Austin in bits and pieces was the best way.

“While we’re on the subject.” Duncan turned to face us. “I’d like to ask that we not take paternity tests.”

“What? Why?” Patrick concentrated on the road, but concern laced his voice.

Duncan remained resolute. “Because it doesn’t matter. If all three of us will be in the babies' lives, acting as fathers, then it does not matter who shared the biological DNA to create them.”

“He has a point.” Miranda raised her head, then sat up fully and snapped her seatbelt into place. She should have done that from the beginning, but none of us mentioned it. “We’re still working out how this relationship works. We don’t need any added drama or angst. You are all their fathers, no matter what a test might say.”

“Equal parental consideration.” Patrick rocked his head to the side.

I considered the situation and the relevance of Duncan’s request. “I agree. I don’t want to know.” The joy of being a father was enough. I had no use for a piece of paper that might declare otherwise.

Patrick pulled into the drive and parked as close as possible to the steps.

I slid out and motioned for Miranda to follow me, my hands out and ready to catch her if she stumbled. Patrick joined me while Duncan jogged ahead to unlock and open the front door. I knew his actions without a word from him. We’d learned how to read each other years ago, and we’d only gotten closer as time passed.

“I’m not an invalid.” Miranda groused, but her eyes lacked any kind of venom. Her hands grasped mine as she dropped to the loose gravel. “See. Perfectly healthy.”

“Only slightly concussed,” Patrick added with a chuckle.

“Exactly. Nothing to worry about.” She tugged a hand free of mine and waved it around. “Already feeling like my old self.”

“You should probably lay down and rest.” Duncan started back down the steps, leaving the front door wide open.

Right on cue, Miranda yawned. She batted the air in front of her face. “Stop that. I’m not really tired.”

“Doesn’t matter. Rest is the quickest way to recover, even if you don’t sleep.” He stood back when Miranda walked toward him. “I remember when they used to warn you not to fall asleep with a concussion. Glad they realized that was a load of shit.”

She snorted and shook her head slowly side to side. “I’m not even dizzy anymore. I’m fine. Feeling great. Could probably run a marathon.”

“Riiiight.” Patrick followed us up the steps and into the house, closing and locking the door behind us. “Let’s hear you say that again when you reach the top of the stairs.”

Miranda’s head lifted, her gaze tracking up the steps leading to the bedrooms. “Ugh. Maybe I’ll rest in the living room.” She turned that way, stretching her arm behind her when I refused to release her hand or follow her.

“Nope.” I reeled her back in and swept her off her feet. “Your room. It’s dark, quiet, and you won’t be disturbed when Austin comes home or when Mrs. Dominico drops by to cook.”

“Yeah, good point.” She wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed my cheek. “Plus it’s pretty romantic getting carried around like a sack of flour.”

“What, every woman doesn’t dream of this?” I jiggled her higher in my arms, drawing out a giggle.

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