Page 118 of My Ex's Brothers

But I’m too tired, my body exhausted, my mind as well. So I scoot closer to him.

His eyebrows furrow.

“How much did he tell you?” I ask. I know Dane had to have told them, if only because Tripp knew. I can’t imagine he’d keep this from Richie.

“Enough,” Richard says. I curl closer to him and he nearly picks me up with one hand, plopping me into his lap. “Come here, baby girl,” he whispers.

I pull my knees to my chest and he holds me in his lap like a baby. I don’t have any more tears to cry. My eyes are itchy, my skin warm and flushed, my heart heavy.

“If that motherfucker tries to hurt you again in any way, I will fucking kill him.” His words are not minced. They are solid as an oak, and the venom can be heard tenfold.

I fully believe Richie would end Dexter if it came down to it, and he wouldn’t even blink.

Something about that makes me feel warm and fuzzy, makes me feel a little safer.

Better.

“Thanks,” I say. “But he is right about one thing.”

“Hmmm?”

“She is his daughter. I can’t keep her from him.”

Richie lets out a breath. “No, you can’t. But you can make it damn hard.”

I smile at that. Not because I want to be vindictive. But because the way Richie says it makes me feel like I can accomplish anything.

“I’ll talk to my lawyer in the morning,” he says, his fingers stroking my hair. “Daddy will take care of you, baby girl.” He kisses my hair.

It’s the softest gesture from such an unruly man. I sigh in contentment, wrapping my arms around his neck.

“I love you,” I say. The words fall out of my mouth without warning. It feels right to say them. I do love him. I love all of them, for so many different reasons.

He’s quiet, and for a moment, I think he’s going to change the subject. I know how hard it must be to hear those words, given what he’s been through. But I need him to know the truth.

Our relationship is so different than anything I’ve ever felt. Tripp and Dane are…easy to read. They wear their hearts on their sleeves. They are loud, they are up-front.

But Richie is not as loud as they are. His words are subtler. His actions louder.

“I love you too, Amelia.” He says the words as if he’s afraid I’ll break.

Or perhaps he’s worried he will.

“I know I shouldn’t,” he adds, his voice a deep rumble against me. “I really fucking shouldn’t, because love is a bitch.”

I have to smile at that, because he’s not wrong. Love is a bitch.

But it’s also beautiful and strong. It’s surprising and sweet.

It’s an enigma and a mystery.

“But you do,” I say. “Because you have a heart, Richie. You think you don’t but…you do.”

“Maybe. But if I do, it’s only because of you,” he says.

“And Lyla,” I say with a smirk. “Don’t act like she’s not growing on you.”

He chuckles. “She’s cute, but?—”

---