by Casey Hagen
“Good God, Mom, just say it. You had sex,” Ashton said on a laugh. “And after?”
“We never saw each other again,” Dylan said.
“Oh, sure, now you chime in,” Harlow said, aiming her best mom look at him.
“Wait. I’m the product of a one-night stand? A booty-call?” Ashton said, pressing her palm against her chest, her mouth open in surprise.
Dylan snorted behind his cup.
The bastard.
“You’re grounded,” Harlow said. It was the first thing she could think of, the words so ridiculous that the whole table dissolved into laughter.
“I hate to run, but I have to meet the guys at ten,” Dylan said, scraping his chair back and standing.
“Wait!” Ashton shot up, too. “You’re going today like you said, right? You’re coming back?”
“Hey, easy. I’m coming back. I have to thank the guys for what they did and wrap up the case. What time do we need to head out?”
“They’re expecting us at one. Takes about an hour to get there,” Harlow said, standing behind Ashton and placing her hands on her daughter’s shoulders to calm her.
Ashton had been calm up to that point, but at the first hint that Dylan would be out of sight she panicked. It was time to have a little chat with Ashton.
“I’ll be back by twelve-thirty,” he said with a nod toward Harlow. “Ashton, you don’t have to worry about me leaving. Now that I know you, about you, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.” He ran his hand over her hair and kissed the top of her head. He pulled a business card from his wallet and handed it to her. “It’s my office and cell number. You can call me whenever you want.”
Ashton threw her arms around him before he made his way out the front door.
“I like him, Mom,” Ashton said with a sigh toward the front door.
“Yeah, baby. Me, too,” Harlow murmured, tilting her head against Ashton’s.
***
Dylan was going to have to figure out how to get more sleep if his future included navigating conversations like that.
Damn.
He jogged up the steps to his office ten minutes shy of the meeting time but, of course, everyone was there and had taken over his waiting room and put a dent in K-cups while they were there.
“How’s the family?” Wolf asked, nodding to him.
“Great. Thanks, guys. I can’t thank you enough for stepping up,” Dylan said, making his own cup of dark roast.
“Your girl really okay?” Dude asked, tilting his cup to his lips.
“She’s good. Said no one hurt her. She got a bit frantic with the idea of my heading here, but whether that’s the events of the past few days or finally meeting me I don’t know.”
“Understandable, on both accounts,” Abe said from where he sat cross-legged on the couch.
“Thought you should know, fourteen of those people last night were held there against their will and forced to work. Right now, they’re all detained while the cops sort it out, but from everything I’ve found Moretti was the head. I think your girl is safe now,” Tex said, closing his laptop.
“We’re still waiting on some information on Kevin, but I don’t think it’s going to yield anything we don’t already know. Spineless and under Moretti’s thumb. Thing is, if he doesn’t get help, he’s going to get in over his head again. It’s only a matter of time,” Evan said from where he leaned against the wall.
“Where do we stand with that?” Dylan asked.
“Well, after you practically threatened to gut him, he seemed to be keen on disappearing for a while. He didn’t even bat an eye when your money guy called to say he had the cash for you. You scared the love of money right out of him.”
“Yeah, sure. I’ll believe that when I see it,” Dylan muttered.
“I made it real easy for him,” Wolf said. “Called in a couple of favors. His rehab is free. Two of the best facilities in the country are willing to take him for as long as it takes, no charge. He’s supposed to be making arrangements this morning.”
“Christ, how did you manage that?” Dylan asked.
“I’ve done some volunteer work at both of them. I left an impression,” Wolf said with a smile.
“I appreciate it. Thank you.” Dylan rubbed his neck in an effort to hide the heat he felt creep up.
“You just make sure we all get invites to the wedding. And there sure as hell better be an open bar,” Dude said, raising his cup.
“Funny guy,” Dylan muttered.
“Anyone can see she’s it for you, and vice versa,” Cole chimed in.
“Yeah, well, after I shower, I’m heading to her parents’ house with her. We’ll see how we fare after that. Her parents don’t know about his problems, so I imagine he’ll be there. As long as I don’t drown him in a punch bowl, we’ll be good,” Dylan said.
The guys burst into laughter.
Dylan wasn’t kidding.
Chapter 10
Dylan rolled up to the house at eleven-thirty. The sun gleamed high in the sky and the salty scent of the ocean spread through the air, carried by a continuous sea breeze. He got out of the car, closed his eyes, and breathed it in, relieved to know that they got the same benefit four blocks from the water that he did living right on the beach.
He waited for a boy to dart by on his bike before heading around the front of his vehicle to jog up to the door. Before he even reached the steps Harlow and Ashton bounced out onto the postage-stamp-sized front porch, arm in arm, happy smiles on their faces, and wearing matching jean shorts and white tank tops.
A soft gust kicked up, lifting the strands of their hair and, although Ashton favored Dylan, the way their hair danced in tandem on the breeze offered a glimpse of the little ways she looked like her beautiful mother.
With all the joking that morning about how they’d conceived her, he sincerely hoped that Ashton knew that they didn’t think of her as a mistake.
Never a mistake.
“Hi, ladies,” he said, reaching out to take Harlow’s hand and twirling her under his arm. “Matching outfits. I’m impressed.”
“You should be. I bought these six months ago, thinking it would be fun. Ashton said she’d rather vomit a lung than go out in matching mother and daughter outfits,” Harlow said with a wink.
“Yeah, ’cause at any other time it would be embarrassing. I made an exception because I missed you,” Ashton said, giving her mother a smile.
“Even when you were five, you weren’t five. You’ve been ready to rule the world since you started walking,” Harlow said, smoothing a hand over Ashton’s hair.
Ashton smiled, slid her sunglasses over her eyes and thrust her chin in the air, looking more twenty-four than fourteen.
For a minute it all crept up on him again, causing a heaviness settling in his heart. He’d missed so damn much, and he had so many years to make up for. Ashton would have a ton of stories about her childhood. He imagined Harlow had thousands of photos from over the years. Maybe family videos. Memories he’d never be able to be a part of, because there was no going back.
What did he have to show for the missing years?
Stories of missions. Some classified. Scars. Random visits with his family. The occasional hookups with women who would never qualify as forever. And massive chunks of time he devoted to the business. To other people’s problems.
He’d been hovering on the fringes of life and society. He needed to do better. To engage again. To see his family and really be there—talking, laughing, and connecting.
He opened the passenger side doors and waited for them to climb in.
Harlow tilted her head and narrowed her eyes, her smile slipping. “You okay?”
“Not really, but I’m headed in the right direction,” he said, giving her a kiss on the cheek before closing her door.
“Can I connect my iPod to your radio and play some songs?” Ashton asked, leaning forward with her hands curled around the backs of his and Harlow’s leather seats.
/> “Sure,” Dylan said, starting the car.
“You might regret that,” Harlow said with a laugh. She pulled her hair over one shoulder, revealing the slim line of her throat, the soft skin exposed.
He wished he could nestle right there and seek refuge from the worries plaguing him, if just for a few minutes. “Why’s that?” he asked.
“She’s fourteen. You’ve just committed to a wide array of pop, rap, boy bands, and girl anthems,” Harlow said.
“That’s one way to look at it. I think I just chose to get to know my daughter better. I want to know what she likes and doesn’t like. I look forward to it,” Dylan said with a shrug, bringing up his GPS. “You got an address for me to punch in?”
“It’s 48 Grady Way, Canyon Country.”
“Nice area,” he said as he punched in the details.
“Yes, they love it. My dad did well in real estate. He ended up getting into the sale of corporate properties, retiring at fifty-five, and after building my mom her dream house backed right up against the Angeles National Forest. It’s worked out because I don’t know what we would do if he still had to work with his heart issues.”
“You’ll like it,” Ashton said, leaning forward again. “They put in all these neat trails around their house. Miles of them. You feel like you’re hiking, but without the risk of deep wilderness. It’s awesome.”
“Sounds it. Buckle up and we’ll hit it,” he said with a smile.
“Where do you live?” Ashton asked as she put her seatbelt on and started thumbing through her iPod.
He pulled away from the curb. “On the beach.”
“Which part?” Ashton asked as the music started up.
He glanced up to the rearview mirror, but Ashton hadn’t taken her eyes off the device in her hand. “Fifteen-hundred Ocean Boulevard. I’ve got a three-bedroom condo on the fourth floor,” Dylan said.
“Do you have an ocean view?” Ashton asked.
“Sure do,” he said, wondering where she was going with this.
“Wow, it sounds nice,” Ashton said, her shoulders slumping.
He glanced at Harlow, looking for guidance. She stole a glance at Ashton and held her palms out in a shrug.
“It’s nice, but it’s not nearly as nice as your house,” he admitted. And it was the truth. His place didn’t have that warm, family feel to it, but then, why would it when he’d checked out of the intimate parts of life. No wonder his mother and sister had been leaving so many messages, inviting him just about everywhere and suggesting “lovely women” for him to meet. Maybe it was less about wanting him paired up and having kids and more just wanting him involved.
“Our house is nice, but it doesn’t have an ocean view,” Ashton said, keeping her eyes trained out the window.
That wasn’t it. Ashton didn’t strike him as the surly-kid-type who’d pout over not having an ocean view. Not at all.
Did she honestly think an ocean view would keep him from her and her mom?
Fourteen.
Yeah, probably.
“No, but your house isn’t lonely,” Dylan said quietly. He loved the location of where he lived. After all, it overlooked the patch of beach where he’d spent his fateful night with Harlow. But beige threatened to drown him at every turn. The walls, the tiles—hell, even the cabinets weren’t that far off from the soul-sucking color. It lacked anything upscale, and neither did it have old charm. The cookie-cutter condo served as a place to crash on his leather sofa, facing his obnoxiously large TV.
He’d trade it all for nights curled up with Harlow and Ashton in front of their modest TV, listening to the creak of the wood plank floors, and kissing Harlow up against those thick, antique door casings.
“You’re lonely?” Ashton said.
“Yes,” he admitted.
“You don’t have to be lonely anymore if you don’t want to,” Ashton said.
He glanced at her in the rearview and found her staring right at him instead of avoiding his gaze. “No, I don’t suppose I do.”
She smiled and raised the volume of the iPod.
He glanced in the rearview again a minute later, watching her head bob to the music, her mouth moving with the words, and texting on her phone.
Harlow glanced over her shoulder and then reached over and laid her hand over his. “You didn’t do so bad that round.”
“I have a feeling it was just a warm-up for what’s to come,” he admitted.
“This honeymoon period is sure to end soon, and there’re going to be real questions and some upset.”
“I figured. If she can just hold out long enough to get through this afternoon, I’ll buy her a pony,” he said with a grin.
“I’m past the age of ponies. Start thinking along the lines of something shiny, with four wheels. My favorite color is blue,” Ashton chimed in, never taking her eyes from her phone.
“Jesus. I’m in trouble,” he said.
“I told you she was smart. I forgot to mention she’s a con artist. I don’t know where she got that from,” Harlow said.
“I do,” he said with a laugh. He and his sister were the best at keeping his parents on their toes.
They followed the 405 all the way through, hitting the briefest of traffic issues along the way. The rolled onto Grady Way an hour after they left, and Harlow was right on the mark: He was regretting the music, just a tad.
His temples throbbed with the piercing beat pumping through his speakers. Was it normal for women to sing at that pitch now? And when did rap become a series of mumbles punctuated by a deep bass shout?
Ashton sang at the top of her lungs after the first half of the trip. She didn’t have a bad singing voice. Sure, she wasn’t going on one of those singing reality shows or anything, but she held her own and she shared by rolling her windows down and entertaining every car they passed.
When the hell had he gotten old?
Dylan fought the urge to fidget now that they were on the side streets. In a matter of minutes he’d have to face people, without one clue as to what they thought about him. Harlow had never given any indication what story she had told them, and plans had changed so fast there hadn’t been the opportunity or privacy to ask.
“This is it,” she said, pointing to their mailbox.
He turned onto the asphalt drive and wound through the trees surrounding the property, keeping it hidden from the road. Boulders dotted the way, making the property seem as though it had been carved out of the mountain itself.
As they came to a stop in the circular drive, Harlow exhaled a heavy breath. “You guys ready for this?”
Dylan swallowed the bile rising and burning the back of his suddenly-dry throat. “Sure. Listen, are your parents gun owners?”
Harlow laughed. “Actually, they are. My dad taught Ashton and me how to shoot.”
“Great,” Dylan muttered. He’d faced men on the battlefield where it was kill or be killed, yet he couldn’t remember being this terrified even then.
“He’s not going to shoot you,” Harlow said, climbing out of the car.
“I’d shoot me if I were him,” Dylan said over the roof as he closed his door.
Harlow pointed at him and shot a grin at their daughter. “Remember what he just said, Ashton.”
Ashton slid her phone into her back pocket and tapped her temple. “In the memory bank.”
“You guys are terrifying,” Dylan said.
The front door swung open. “Hello, sweetheart!” her mother said, running out onto the porch.
“Hi, Mom,” Harlow said, wrapping her in a hug.
Her mother let her go with a warm smile that reassured Dylan a bit, and wrapped her arms around Ashton. “My darling Ashton, you’re looking more grown up than ever. Before I know it, you’ll be off to college and won’t have time for your old grandma anymore.”
“I’ll always have time for you, Grandma.” Ashton said, hugging her.
“And who is this?”
He jumped forward before Harlow could int
roduce him and reached out a hand. “Dylan North. I’m, well, I’m—”
“He’s Ashton’s father,” Harlow said, laying a reassuring hand on his arm and smiling up to him.
“Really?” Harlow’s father bellowed from the doorway. “About fourteen years late, don’t you think?”
Dylan made himself stand still and face her father as he loomed in the doorway. “Yes,” Dylan agreed. What else could he say? No matter who was responsible, he hadn’t been there.
Her father walked down the steps, never taking his gaze off Dylan. He hugged Harlow and Ashton before turning to him. “I like a man who can be honest and agree instead of trying to feed me a load of bull. I’m Gabe Cassidy. This is my wife, Ella,” he said, offering his hand.
“Nice to finally meet you both,” Dylan said, shaking his hand.
“Can I go out on the trails?” Ashton asked.
“Sure. We’re eating in an hour, so make sure you’re back,” Ella said.
Ashton skipped off and Dylan fought the urge to call her back. It wasn’t really his call, at least he didn’t think so, but she hadn’t been out of their sight since they had gotten her back, and it just seemed a bit too soon. But what better place for the first time?
“So, Dylan, where have you been all these years?” Gabe asked, slinging an arm over Dylan’s shoulders.
Dylan shot a look at Harlow before letting Gabe take him to God knows where. Maybe to show off his gun collection, something Dylan would be thrilled about in literally any other situation than this.
Chapter 11
Harlow’s heart knocked against her ribs like a kick drum at a heavy-metal concert. Her nerves that had been on a world-record-setting roller coaster for a couple of days still kept her dancing on the edge of panic.
Her mother wrapped her arms around her, the familiar scent of her Chanel perfume carrying away some of the tension Harlow had carried even after Ashton was home. She needed to hold on to something normal. Something that hadn’t morphed into the unfamiliar and scary before slipping back into familiar, yet different.
“It’s going to be okay, sweetheart. Your father is just messing with him.”
