Page 80 of What Remains

I wasn’t about to rub the man’s back or hug him, like I’d have done if it was Gwen spinning out, so I shoved my hands into my pockets and remained a rigid statue off to his side. “They’re dead. I wish I could’ve kept them alive for you to kill yourself, but we know they’re being tortured in Hell.”

“What’s wrong with this world?” he gruffly asked.

“A lot.”

He shoved off the wall and turned toward me, drawing a hand to his chest as if he were on the verge of a heart attack.

“You need to have kids,” he said quietly. “Sons, if God’s willing.”

I faltered, lifting my hands from my pockets in confusion. “I’m sorry, what?”

He tore his hands through his hair, shaking his head as if he was unraveling. “The world could use more men like you to raise the next generation of boys. You know, with morals. Men who’d never think about hurting—” He cut himself off and closed the space between us to wrap a hand over my shoulder, eyes tight on mine. “Do that for me, will ya?”

“Don’t have a wife, so . . .”

“You will one day.”

That conversation went a hell of a lot different than I anticipated. And as I’m sitting here thinking about it, I still can’t wrap my head around it. I’m not about to jump to the conclusion he was implying I have those kids with his daughter, but . . .

“Gwen’s here,” Juliette announces, and I sit taller and search out the woman I can’t get off my mind.

She’s in a bikini. Red. Her favorite color. It’s not even that revealing, my head’s just been in the gutter lately. She also has on a black see-through skirt knotted at her hip, and her long legs steal my attention as she strides over.

My gaze drifts higher, where it shouldn’t, then snaps to her father over her shoulder. Thankfully, he’s not looking at me. I follow his line of sight to the pool, and to Julian as he gets hit in the face with the football—distracted because he was checking out Gwen. Figures. So much for what he said on the plane.

When I pivot around, Gwen’s setting up the lounger next to me. She turns and bends over to lay out a towel, and⁠—

Stop looking, dammit. I’m as bad as Julian.

I rip my eyes away from her and toward the rest of her family joining us. Natasha smiles and Emory waves her hello. Wyatt quietly nods his greeting before helping Emory into her life vest as Constantine gets out of the pool and starts our way.

“Weird to be hanging out by the pool,” Constantine remarks as he takes Illiana from my sister’s arms. “But it’s probably what we all need.”

Not so sure about that now.

“And where are the lovebirds who ordered you all down here in the first place?” Natasha smirks. “Ah, the hot tub.”

Once she’s buckled into her vest, Emory tugs on Wyatt’s swim shorts. “Daddy, will you throw me into the pool?”

“Of course, baby girl.” He hoists her up to his side, shoots me a funny look I have no idea how to read, then takes off.

“I’ll happily rock her back to sleep for you.” Natasha tips her head toward Illiana and opens her arms. “You two swim, or join the lovebirds in the hot tub.”

“Get in the jacuzzi with Carter?” Constantine grimaces before handing my niece over to Natasha. “Not happening.”

“Oh come on, you two are besties now, right?” Juliette swats his chest, and my brother-in-law swats her ass right back, not caring who’s watching.

“Don’t push your luck,” he says in a low voice before hauling her away from us and throwing her into the pool the way Jesse did with his wife.

Natasha heads for the splash pad with the others, leaving me here with Gwen.

Great.

She’s still standing, a blank look on her face as she messes with the knot of the skirt, not yet taking off the wrap.

I throw my legs around between our loungers and sit upright. “What’s wrong?”

Her eyes slowly journey up my body and to my face. “I thought I could do this.”