Page 51 of Tusk's Fury

Rigs’ gaze turns affectionate when he looks at me and tells Tusk, “I couldn’t agree more. I’m glad Miss Brittany finally found a man who understands her worth.”

They come over to where we’re standing with Siege and Rider, who are currently having a stupid face contest to see who can make the baby smile.

Tusk reaches out and runs his finger around the shell of her ear, and she breaks out with the biggest smile ever. He’s silently telling everyone in the room that this ishistiny daughter, and he knows her better than all of them.

I glance down at the box tucked under his arm and ask, “What’s in the box?”

He replies casually, “A gift for my favorite girl.”

We look at each other for a confused minute. He’s been calling both me and Victoria his ‘favorite girl’, and it’s a little confusing. I know, all the way down to my bones, that he just realized he was doing this and is going to have come up with a different descriptor for one of us.

I’m pretty sure our daughter is going to win the favorite girl contest, and I don’t mind one bit.

Chapter 19

Tusk

When we leave Siege’s office, I wrap my arm around Brittany as we head out to my vehicle. “You ready to meet my boys?”

She nods enthusiastically. “Yeah, I saw them with you and your ex that day I thought you got back together. They seemed like nice kids.”

“Shows how much you know,” I tease her.

I take the baby from her and strap her into the car seat before getting into my side of the car.

I find that I’m cautiously happy as I drive to pick up my boys. Having Brittany at my side feels right. I should have integrated her into my family a long time ago. I don’t even know why I was so reluctant. Guess it was because I didn’t want my ex to harass her. But now everything has changed. We’re committed and making a family together.

It’s midmorning, and the sun is shining brightly, making everything seem happy and bright. It helps put everything we learned in the meeting in my rearview. I’ve driven to pick up the boys a hundred times since the divorce, but this isn’t just another weekend visitation. This is the day my boys meet their baby sister and the woman I fully intend to marry.

The second I pull up, the boys come running out and pile into the SUV. I peel out of the driveway, squealing the tires to avoid having to talk to Gina.

My boys don’t bother with overnight bags because their mom never sends back the items I buy for them. They just kind of get sucked into a black hole and are never seen or heard from again. I told them to come with the clothes on their backs. After Gina’s stupid games, I made sure I had everything they need at my home. It’s no fun always having to be one step ahead of that woman, but I’ll do anything to make my boys happy.

***

On the drive to the park my kids were too busy chatting about their week to pay much attention to Brittany and Victoria. But when we unload from the vehicle, they eye them up curiously. Obviously, when they got in I introduced Brittany to them as my friend, and said Victoria was her daughter, but I wanted to wait until we were out of the car before explaining that’s she’s more than a friend. Brittany walks ahead with the baby and takes a seat on a bench so she can feed her before we set off.

The boys follow behind me, and I can hear their sneakers crunching against the gravel as we walk. We stop at a large bench about fifteen yards from where Brittany and the baby are resting. When I sit down, the boys fling themselves onto the bench as well—all except my oldest.

Jack has always been a bundle of energy. Today is no different. He’s ten and the leader of the pack when I’m not around. I give him a minute to burn off some steam by playing pretend hopscotch.

Before I can bring up the topic, he asks, “Who’s the blonde? I’ve never seen her before.”

Curious, I ask, “Who do you think she is?”

“I’m guessing she’s your new girlfriend. She’s real pretty and she’s got long legs. If I were drawing her, she’d be ten feet tall.”

I want to laugh, but I don’t—’cause I’m their father, and I have to set a good example. “I don’t want you telling Brittany she has long body parts or drawing weird pictures of her. She’s sensitive, and we’re gonna treat her nice.”

Roan, my eight-year-old, asks, “Is she nice? Where’d she get a baby?”

“Yeah, she’s really nice to me and will be to you all as well. Just like your mom and I made all of you, Brittany and I made you a sister.”

Roan’s eyes go wide, and Jack suddenly stops in his tracks.

“She’s your sister,” I say. Then add, “Well, she’s your half-sister, and her name is Victoria.”

Jack asks bluntly, “Are the two of you getting married? If you are, Mom’s gonna get mad and not let us see you again.”

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