Thirty-Five

Wilder

Three days in this house, and no word from Blaise about what was happening next. I wasn’t complaining exactly. It was hard for a man to be upset about having Oakley locked up in a house with him. Especially with her coming to my bed every night. Stripping her naked and burying my dick inside her over and over.

I’d given up on trying to draw a damn line. That had been a joke. I couldn’t look at her and not think about taking her into a room and spreading those legs that led to heaven.

All my good intentions had been shot to hell. I wasn’t going to end the sex. Truth was, when Blaise did say it was safe for her to return home, I wasn’t going to tell her. Not until I didn’t crave her like an insane man.

I stayed out of the dining room, where Oakley was helping Sarah with her schoolwork. I’d handled her absence with the principal, and the teacher had sent home all the assignments that Sarah had missed. The Hughes name held power everywhere. I used it when necessary.

Every time I heard their laughter filtering down the hallway, my fucking chest got warm and tingly. Shit it had to stop doing. My dick could love Oakley. My heart, however, needed to back the fuck down. That wasn’t a ride I could afford.

“Hey, Dad,” Sarah said, walking into the living room.

“You done with your work for the day?” I asked her as she came over to sit beside me on the sofa.

“Yep! Oaky helped me understand my math. She taught me a song to help me memorize my steps,” she explained.

“Excellent. You want to watch something?” I handed her the remote. “Or do you and Oakley have some painting project or baking planned next?”

She sighed and leaned back, pulling her feet under her. “Oaky is taking a shower and washing her hair. It’ll be a while.”

I waved the remote at her.

She grinned and took it from me.

“Dad, can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” I replied.

It had been a while since we’d had a good talk. We used to do it a lot. I missed our conversations.

“Did you love Oaky once?”

I froze. That wasn’t what I had expected.

“I know y’all dated. Oaky doesn’t talk about it, but … Mom did. She said things to Oaky, and so did Grandmother. They would say stuff that made Oaky sad, and sometimes … it made me mad at you. They said you used her. That she wasn’t good enough for you. They were mean to her.”

Dammit. How long had she been holding on to this?

I tried not to let her words get to me, but, fuck, I wanted to know what the hell Cleo and Sylvia had said to Oakley.

“Yes, I did love Oakley once,” I admitted.

Sarah looked solemn as she processed that. “Then, why did Mom and Grandmother say that Oaky was pathetic for loving you? And that you used her to get to Mom? That Mom was the one you loved?”

The pain in my chest was only surpassed by the anger boiling inside me. How the hell was I going to sit here and look at my kid while pure rage for her dead mother was building in me? If Sarah had heard those things said to Oakley, what else had they said to her over the years? Had she been beaten down over what had happened with us for the past nine years?

Sarah reached over and put her hand on mine. “Dad, it’s okay. I’m eight years old. I can handle the truth.”

I wanted to laugh and cry. The truth wasn’t something I could tell her. The fact that I had never loved her mom. That I had gotten drunk and cheated on Oakley was also not something I ever wanted her to know.

“Your mom and Oakley were never close. You brought them together. They both loved you.”

“Oaky loves me. But …” She paused. “I loved Mom, and she … I don’t know if she loved me.”

I rubbed my hand over my chest to ease the agony shredding me from her words.

“Oh, sweetheart, your mom did love you. She loved you so much. She just had some problems that weren’t her fault. She needed medication, and when she didn’t take it, she acted different. That wasn’t her. It wasn’t who she wanted to be. But she loved you.”

Sarah gave me a sad smile. “I guess. But she didn’t love me like Oaky does. Or like you do.”

I reached over and pulled her into my arms. What I wished I could do to change her past. If I could have helped Sylvia be a better mom. Gotten through to her about how important it was to go to counseling and take her meds. That Sarah was only little once and needed her.

“Dad,” Sarah said against my arm.

I wasn’t able to let her go yet. “Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Oaky loves you too.”

I stilled, but said nothing. What the hell had Oakley said to Sarah? I should be angry. Pissed the fuck off. We weren’t going to upset Sarah anymore. No rocking her world and upsetting the balance of things.

“Not one time when Mom accused Oaky of loving you did she deny it. She always just listened. Let her rant. Oaky doesn’t like to lie. That’s how I know. I’ve known it for a long time now. I hate it when you’re mean to her. She’s been sad for long enough.”

I had to speak. I had to say something.

“Don’t you think she’s pretty?”

I swallowed and nodded. “Yeah, she’s pretty.”

Sarah leaned back and smiled up at me. “And she can cook, and she’s funny, and she’s smart. She can paint real good too.”

Was my kid trying to convince me to like Oakley or love her?

“Uh, yeah, I’m aware,” I replied slowly, being very careful in the strange, uncharted waters I was suddenly in.

Sarah held up her hands. “Well? Why can’t you love her? I love her. She’s really easy to love.”

I had to stop this—and possibly go take a few shots of tequila.

“Sarah, Oakley is your aunt. She’s here for you. Just like I am. We love you, and we want you to be safe and happy.”

Sarah tilted her head to the side, and she narrowed her eyes. In that moment, she reminded me of my mother. “I love both of you, and I want you both to be happy. So, love her already. Stop scowling at her. Treat her nice, like you’ve been doing since y’all came back the other day.”

Yep, I needed a fucking drink.