Page 202 of Second Sets Omnibus
“No one should be here...” my words trail off as we step into the kitchen, eyeing each other with suspicion, ready to tear each other’s heads off.
“It’s the therapist,” Asher declares with his know-it-all attitude, shoving his chin in the air. I don’t miss the wicked wince he gives when he pulls a piece of paper off the fridge, reading the words. Hobbling toward us, he grunts when he holds it up for all of us to see. “River left this here for us. It’s our schedule.”
Right. Although we’ve seen her a few times without a schedule, it’s time for more structure.
Kieran snatches the paper from Asher’s hand and turns his back to him. “Lucy Steadman Ph.D.—noon on Mondays and Fridays,” he says, looking over the paper.
“Ah, man, I don’t want to talk to some stranger about my damn problems again. It was already awkward the first time,” Rad grumbles as the hand pounds against the front door again.
“Remember the pact,” I say, raising a brow when he puffs out his bottom lip. “We promised.”
“Fuck, I know. All in. All for our girls. I’ll tell this lady everything on my mind. But fuck—” His cheeks turn red, and he looks away, avoiding our stares. “I’m just scared to do it, I guess.” He shrugs nonchalantly, but I note the tension lining his shoulders and the clench of his teeth.
Truth be told, I’m scared shitless to unleash my past on a stranger. Digging up old wounds won’t be easy. Reliving mynightmares repeatedly and telling them to some woman with a certificate makes my stomach turn. I want to fucking vomit at the thought. Hell, my doctors tried this after my family’s untimely death. They swore up and down it’d help me cope with the ghosts haunting my dreams. Back then, I refused. But I’ll do it for the brighter future ahead of us.
“For the pact,” I say, staring between Asher, Rad, and Kieran, standing a distance apart from each other. They each nod in confirmation before I open the door and let Lucy in to evaluate us one by one.
Over the next few hours, she takes each of us aside in a private office off the living room, effortlessly discussing our lives. The conversation between her and me flows easily. An odd sense of familiarity sparks between us, and I find myself revealing more about myself than I have for anyone.
The only thing that fuels my eagerness to spill my demons is the two girls across the street.
The road separating our house from River’s burns beneath my bare feet as I make my way across the street toward the soft sound of the waves crashing against the beach. Briefly, a few days ago, I caught a glimpse of the paradise River has built for herself.
Something I know she’s always wanted.
“I want to bury my feet in the sand and stand on the beach when we get to California,” she confesses, burying her face in my neck. My arms tighten around her, pulling her body against mine. As we lie side by side on her bed under the glowing stars glued to her ceiling, filling the small space with neon light. “I’d live by the water if I got the chance.”
“Anything for you, Little Star,” I murmur, running my fingers through her long strands.
The blue sky, mixing with fluffy white clouds, looms above me as I draw in the fresh salt-scented air. Waves crashagainst the beach like a steady chorus. Peace washes over me—consuming me for the first time today. The hot sand cushions my feet as I make my way down the small hill, only stopping when a small voice calls out to me from a distance.
“Daddy!”
My body stiffens when her little voice carries from the water’s edge. Small hands wave frantically in my direction, drawing my eyes to her. Not that you could miss her. A bright, neon green bathing suit covers her tiny body like the stars in her mother’s old bedroom.
“Daddy! You’re here!”
Sand kicks up behind her tiny feet as she rushes toward me with a massive grin on her reddened face. With her arms wide open, she slams into my legs, hugging me tight.
“Lyric,” I breathe, momentarily stunned when her head tips back, and she looks up at me with down-turned lips.
“Daddy,” she whines with a wobbly lip, examining every inch of my face and chest. “You’ve got a boo-boo just like Daddy Asher.” My heart sinks when the waterworks start, breaking it into tiny pieces. Dropping to my knees, I quickly wipe away the fat tears falling down her cheeks, desperate to eliminate the sadness. “Why are you hurt?” she sniffles, tracing the bruises under my right eye with her little finger.
Panic grips me tight in a vise, squeezing my chest. My daughter is crying. Fuck, and I’m the cause of all her pain. How do I explain to a four-year-old that I intentionally let another man put his fists into my face?
Frantically, my eyes dart around the beach, catching a glimpse of River sitting on a towel in a red one-piece suit. Those long, filled-out legs stretch before her, soaking up the heated evening sun. A slight breeze blows her long strands back past her shoulders as my eyes eat away at her appearance, taking in every ounce of the woman I once thought was mine forever.
Lava pools in my belly, reactivating the attraction and pulling me to River. No matter how angry I was at her. Or how betrayed I felt. Her flawless beauty always draws me like a moth to a flame, searing me. Last time, I burned to ash. This time, after learning the truth, I sink fully into the flames of my doom. Or resurrection. However, this turns out. One day I’ll prove to River how fucking sorry I am that I walked away without talking to her. How fucking stupid could I have been? The guilt of my ignorance will haunt me for the rest of my fucking life.
Swallowing hard, I avert my eyes when fiery heat envelops my cheeks. Those laser moss-green eyes latch onto our movements, slightly narrowing in on my hands, combing through Lyric’s wet strands as I attempt to soothe the hurt bubbling out of her eyes. I breathe when she tips her head in my direction, not uttering a word about my perusal of her body. Thank fuck.
“I’m okay, Ladybug.” Her face softens when I speak. “It was just an accident, but I’m okay now. You don’t have to cry for me,” I whisper, catching her tears as they fall out of her eyes. “So, what are you doing on the beach today?” I ask, trying to divert the conversation to something better than the bruises lining my flesh.
“Sandcastle,” she whispers, pointing toward where she was sitting. Sure enough, a few small buckets, shovels, and a mound of sand sit, waiting for her to continue.
“Does it have a moat?”
Lyric immediately grabs my hand and yanks me toward the direction of the sandcastle.
