Page 18 of Off-Limits Daddy
He huffed a soft laugh. “Yeah, you did. Especially with Ari.”
There it was—the shape of the thing we hadn’t said, sliding quiet between us like smoke curling under a door. I shifted in my seat, shoulders tense.
“When Dad left...” Sage’s voice trailed off for a second, like the weight of it still hadn’t lifted, even all these years later. “I was already grown, or close enough. Had the shop to build, bills to keep up with. It hurt—but I had anchors. Ari didn’t. He was just a kid.”
Six years old. Way too young to understand why his father never came back.
“Mom did everything she could,” Sage went on, voice firm but low. “But I was too busy trying to help pay the bills to give him what he really needed. I think... I think that’s part of why he stuck to you.”
I looked down into my coffee, letting the bitterness of it sit heavy on my tongue. I remembered it, all right. The way Ari used to trail after me and Sage like a shadow desperate to be seen. Big eyes. Kinda skinny for his age. Always on the edge of asking for something but never quite brave enough to say it out loud.
“He looked up to you,” Sage said, softer now. “Still does.”
The words landed like a weight I’d been pretending I wasn’t carrying. That steady, loyal way Ari used to hover just inside my orbit. Wanting attention. Wanting belonging. Wanting... something I hadn’t understood back then.
And now?—
Now I knew exactly what he wanted. Knew exactly whatIwanted. And I didn’t know what the hell to do with that. Not with Sage sitting across from me, trusting me, grateful I’d been there for his little brother.
My throat worked around something that felt too sharp to swallow.
“I didn’t do anything special,” I muttered.
“That’s not true, and you know it.” Sage’s voice was rigid, but not accusing. “You gave him what our father should’ve. Time. Attention. Someone to follow around who didn’t treat him like a nuisance.”
Guilt crawled slowly under my skin. I’d spent years keeping Ari at arm’s length—telling myself it was to protect him, to keep things from getting messy. But it wasn’t just that. Part of me knew even back then that if I let him close... I wouldn’t want to let go.
Now he wasn’t a kid anymore. Now I wasn’t just his brother’s best friend. And that line I’d worked so hard to keep clean was starting to blur in ways I didn’t know how to handle.
Sage let out a breath, shaking his head. “I just... I wanted to say thanks. For giving him what he needed when our old man didn’t. Time. Attention. A steady hand. I couldn’t always be that. You were there for him. I can’t thank you enough.”
My stomach twisted sharply. If only he knew hownotnoble this thing felt now. Whatever steady hand I’d offered before was tangled up in want now, in places it shouldn’t go.
“I’m not sure I’m the guy you should be thanking,” I said finally, quiet. “Not anymore.”
Sage frowned, studying me like he was searching for the thread he’d missed. “Why’s that?”
I didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Guilt and want knotted tight in my chest, same as always. I swallowed some coffee. It burned its way down, bitter and hot, like it could scald the truth quiet.
Outside, somewhere in the bay, Trent swore under his breath again.
Sage didn’t press, just sat there steadily like he always did. And I sat across from him, pretending I wasn’t breaking apart by degrees.
“It’s that I don’t knowhowto be there anymore,” I finally said, voice rough around the edges. “He’s not that kid chasing after us on his bike. He’s grown. And I?—”
I cut myself off before I said too much. Before I told him what kind of thoughts kept me up at night.
Sage’s brow furrowed. “You’ve been there for him before. Why would that be any different now?”
Because before, it had been easy. Before, he was just the kid tagging along behind us, wanting to be part of something bigger, looking at me like I knew how to fix things. Now? Now he was a grown man, with demure smiles and quick comebacks and a mouth I thought about too damn much when I was supposed to be thinking about safer things. Cleaner things.
Now, nothing about it was easy.
“It used to be easy, Sage. Now...” I shook my head, not sure if I should say anything else.
Sage watched me for a long time, like he could untangle all that I’d left unsaid.
“You’ve always been what he needed,” he said finally. “And maybe you’re the only one who doesn’t see it.”
