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“It’s okay,” I whispered. “I’ll get rid of him.”
I didn’t know how, but I wasn’t leaving Nix. Michael would have to drag me out of here kicking and screaming and I knew he wouldn’t appreciate me making a scene.
Before I could get to the door though, Zane was there, glaring at my father. “What the fuck do you want?”
“I came to see my daughter… and to see how Phoenix is doing.”
Zane snorted at that. “Yeah, okay.”
“Z, man,” Nix croaked, and I grabbed him a cup of water.
Michael’s heavy stare followed me as I helped Nix sit up and offered him the cup. “I’d like to talk to the two of you if possible.”
“Can’t you just go?” I sighed, finally meeting his gaze. “I’m not leaving him. I won’t—”
“I realize that.” He scrubbed his jaw, looking positively uncomfortable. His eyes moved to Nix, and he flinched. “How are you feeling, son?”
“Me?” Disbelief coated Nix’s voice. “You’re asking me how I feel?”
“Please, can we have some privacy? It’s late and you need to get some rest. It won’t take long.”
Nix glanced at me, and I shrugged. It was his choice.
It had to be.
“Fine.”
“Nix, I don’t think—”
“Come on, Z,” Kye cut him off. “I need to take Chloe home, and you need to check in on your gran.”
Zane hesitated, glaring at Michael like he was the devil incarnate. I clambered off the bed and went to him, gently grasping his arms. “I won’t let anything happen to him, I promise.” I hugged him tightly and whispered, “Thank you. Thank you for everything.”
“Ah, shit, B.” He hugged me back, and the two of us stood there, silently promising to always look out for Nix. The boy we both loved more than anything.
“We’ll be back first thing in the morning,” Kye said. “Keep an eye on our boy, B. If you need us—”
“I know, thank you,” I said, stepping out of Zane’s embrace. He gave Nix a small nod and pinned Michael with a dark look before leaving the room.
“I’ll watch him,” Kye said, as if he knew we’d both worry about him too.
He followed Zane, leaving me and Nix with my father. The three of us were silent, the air strained and thick between us.
I returned to Nix’s side, taking his hand in mine. Michael’s eyes tracked the movement, our united front. He’d separated us once, I didn’t plan on letting it happen again.
“May I sit?” he asked, helping himself to one of the chairs.
“What do you want, Michael?” I asked, not bothering to hide my exasperation. “It’s late and Nix needs to rest.”
He regarded me—the daughter he’d never wanted, the daughter he’d betrayed in so many ways—and let out a steady breath.
“I think I owe you both an apology.”
Silence.
It saturated the room, the spaces between us.
But his words, those eight little words I never thought I’d hear from Michael Rowe, echoed through me.
