Page 227 of Second Sets Omnibus
Sometimes it’s hard to believe that there was an open rift between the four of us, threatening to swallow everything we’d worked so hard for. Since Asher’s admission, the tension has settled. We’ve drifted into a neutral area where we all have an understanding. Everything we do is for them—Lyric and River. Whether we hate each other or don’t get along, we try. For them.
“Doesn’t everyone? This is poor Stanley, who is now red and irritated. No thanks to you,” he says, throwing nasty looks my way.
“For fuck’s sake,” I grumble, shaking my head.
“I’m curious what the other one is called,” Callum says, further provoking his stupidity with a smirk.
“Don’t rile him up.” I side-eye Cal, who shrugs, sipping more of his coffee.
“Well, this is Stanley, and this is Shirley. They’re married.”
“Nipples can’t marry, asshat,” I gripe, throwing my arms in the air. “This is the weirdest shit I’ve ever been a part of.”
“You pretend like you haven’t known me since middle school, K. It’s rude as hell. Leave S and S alone.” Rad rolls his eyes in complete seriousness.
What ring of hell do I live in?
God, sometimes Rad drives me up a wall. But he’s been my brother for far longer than I can remember. He was the first person to pull me into his orbit in middle school. The first person to make me laugh after falling into my miserable life with Nigel and Gloria.
Sure, he annoys the hell out of me. Sometimes. Other times I want to punch him in the face. Or hug him. The thing about Rad is, even when we were falling apart at the seams, I still loved him like a brother. I don’t know how I could have gotten through life without his crazy ass.
River’s bootcamp has shown us what we had lost. Why did I fight everything so hard? She’s always been the answer both personally and professionally. Here in Central City, she helped us build our band and brand, and now we are back, and she’s doing the exact same thing. It’s not social media and recording our EP this time, it’s family and brotherhood.
“He’s got a point,” Callum quips.
My eyes snag in the doorway where a very disheveled Lyric stands, yawning. Her tiny fists rub at her eyes as she stands in a long white t-shirt I recognize as Asher’s. Her dark locks stick up in every direction as she squints, looking around the room.
My heart aches when my green monster reactivates. Last night, after River passed out from exhaustion, we tended to Lyric. Together we ate dinner, watched a little TV, and hungout. It felt nice having all four of us in the same room without fighting one another. And Lyric, of course.
Am I still pissed as fuck at Asher for what he did? Uh, fuck yeah. He can swallow glass for how he manipulated us into leaving. But for Lyric’s sake, I’m trying to keep an open mind and swallow my anger as best as possible. What would she think if her dads always fought in front of her? How could we protect them both if we weren’t in sync? Besides, the longer I’m around him, the less rage I feel. Asher did a fucked-up thing, but I’m slowly forgiving him for what he did. Because I get it. To an extent, I understand his reasoning. Albeit fucked up, I get it.
Besides, last night when Lyric was sleepy, she curled up in Asher’s lap and begged him to snuggle her in bed and read a story. So, I compromised, even when we locked eyes, and he asked permission with his dopey stare.
Something has changed in Asher in the past few weeks, and it seems to be for the fucking better. He’s rounding out, seeming less stressed. It makes sense with the massive secret he was holding in for so long. I’d never admit it to Asher, but seeing the man he should have been peeking out after hiding for so long is nice. For so long, we were under his father’s iron fist, facing his wrath daily. We were in survival mode. Now, we’re not. Especially him.
“Daddies,” she says softly, shuffling her feet as she approaches.
“Sleep well, Little Blue?” I rasp, reaching for her the moment she’s within grabbing distance. I drag her onto my lap and place my arms securely around her, wanting to keep her there forever.
“Daddy snores,” she mumbles, rubbing her face along my shirt. Her tiny body sags into mine with relief.
I marvel at her when I brush my fingers through her hair. A sense of peace washes through me with her in my presence. This is all I’ve needed these past few years. I’ve been angrilystumbling along in life, blindly feeling for my next move. She was it all along. Her and River. The beacons I’ve begged for, dragging me out of the miserable fog I was in. Finally, the veil has been lifted. I’m seeing clearly for the first time.
“Sorry, Little One,” Asher rasps, smoothing down his hair as he walks into the living room, awkwardly looking around. “But you weren’t too innocent yourself. You kick like a donkey. Did you have dreams?”
I try to hold in my snort, but it doesn’t work when she frowns at me and gasps. “I do not kick! I sleep like a log, ask Mommy. That’s what she says.” She pouts a little, crossing her arms. “No dreams. Not like at home when the ghosts tap on my windows.” My brows raise at her admission.
“The ghosts tap?” I ask carefully, and she nods, blowing out a breath.
Asher shakes his head, rubbing at the bruises lining his ribs with a wince. “You’re a little ninja when you sleep, Little One,” he says, giving her a genuine smile as she stares up at him with a grin.
“You hungry?” he asks her until she nods.
“I want ice cream!” This time she directs those big, mismatched eyes in my direction, batting her eyelashes.
“No ice cream,” I mutter. “That’s not breakfast.”
“How about some pancakes? I think I saw some ingredients in there.” Lyric immediately perks up, nodding with excitement. “Okay. Pancakes it is. Um, anyone else?” Asher asks, clearing his throat as he looks around the room, rubbing the back of his neck.
