Page 59 of Shootout Daddies
Her head swivels toward me so fast I’m surprised her braid doesn’t knock me out. “You live next to Landon Shaw?”
“Well, I should probably also tell you about the car thing.”
“What car thing?”
“I maybe scratched his… Audi. And he maybe hates me now.”
Brooke stares at me like I’ve grown a second head. “How many secrets are you sitting on, girl?”
“Apparently more than I thought.”
She grabs her phone from her purse, shaking her head. “I need to start journaling this shit.”
I chuckle under my breath as we say goodbye, promising to talk soon. I watch her leave the building, her figure growing smaller through the glass doors.
Things don’t feel as heavy now. It’s still complicated, still uncertain—but it’s not unbearable. Not when I have her. And not when I have them.
When I get back upstairs, Storm greets me with a wagging tail and sleepy eyes. Chloe is still napping peacefully.
Rhett is already moving through the kitchen, sorting through containers, probably looking for more protein. Hunter’s stretched out on the couch, scrolling through his phone, one hand resting gently on Chloe’s bouncer.
This is my life now. Somehow, impossibly… it fits.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Landon
I closethe door behind me and lean against it for a second, letting the silence settle. My keys hang loose between my fingers, and I don’t even bother tossing them into the bowl on the console.
The apartment is pristine. Modern. Sleek. Exactly how I left it this morning.
But I’m not.
My chest feels tight. Ankles buzzing. I can still hear her voice in the elevator. See her face. Ivy—wearing those soft clothes, cradling a baby on her hip like she’s done it her whole life.
She didn’t even look at me properly. Just that soft “hey,” like we’re neighbors passing in a hallway and not… whatever the hell this is.
I stalk toward the kitchen, open the fridge, and stare inside at rows of organized, untouched meals. I don’t want any of it. I close it again.
Instead, I head for the balcony. I shouldn’t, but I do.
I step out into the morning heat and rest my hands on the railing, glancing left. My pulse spikes.
Their balcony.
I saw everything.
It wasn’t on purpose. Last night, I was out here catching up on emails, sipping a drink I didn’t even want. I had a podcast playing—something about fraud litigation in corporate law. I’d tuned most of it out.
It was late. Quiet. The sky had been blanketed in clouds, the city humming beneath me.
And then I saw her.
Ivy.
Bent over the terrace railing in a red bikini. Hair tumbling down her back in a mess of curls. Rhett was behind her. His hands on her hips, his mouth near her ear. Her eyes were closed. Lips parted.
Then Hunter stepped out. Pressed in behind her. His palm flattened on her stomach while Rhett’s fingers tugged at those flimsy ties on her top.
