And when she took it, looked it over, then looked up and beamed at me, I saw a spark of some confidence there.

  If you would have told me then that in a couple of years she would come out of her shell, love a completely ridiculous choice of a man, and somehow learn to love that great ass of hers, I would have laughed at you.

  But that was exactly what happened for her.

  And that was her story to tell.

  Tig - 2.5 years

  I was terrified.

  It was a wholly unknown feeling for me.

  I had been in shit situation after shit situation since I was old enough to walk. I knew what it was like to be face to face with groups of men, outnumbered. I knew how it felt to have a knife to my throat, ripping slices through my skin. I had felt a gun to my temple. You name it, in my personal life or my line of work, I had been through it.

  So I should have completely understood fear.

  But I realized as I sat there that I absolutely hadn't a clue.

  Because I was sitting in a stark white hospital room with hideous mauve accents to the walls, chairs, and artwork, the early morning sun blindingly bright through the windows, holding our baby.

  Kenzi had been, well, a terrible patient.

  She had screamed and threw things and cried and threatened a homemade vasectomy without anesthetic.

  It took a long eighteen hours, but she had finally given us our first child, and after getting stitched up, had fallen into an exhausted sleep after having nursed and held our daughter for almost an hour.

  Yes, our daughter.

  That was the main reason the fear was a vice grip on my heart and guts.

  It was wrong to hope for any one sex over the other, but I had been hoping for a son.

  Why, you might ask?

  Not because of some lame ass misogynistic reason like I wanted to throw a ball around with my son. I could throw a ball to a daughter just as well as a son.

  See, there were some wounds that never healed.

  I had exactly one.

  And that was my sister.

  That was what had happened to her on my watch.

  There was no assuaging that guilt.

  There was no getting over that cruelty and loss.

  And there damn sure was no way I could let that happen again.

  So I had hoped for a son, knowing the chances of a similar fate for him would be significantly less.

  It was irrational. I knew that. My life now was nothing like the life back then. I wasn't in a slum. I wasn't hustling to make ends meet, and leaving my loved ones alone to get involved with shitheads. I could take care of any daughter the same way I took care of Kenzi- with the threat of bloody, painful death if they so much as honked their horn at her.

  "One day she is going to tell you that she's got a date, and you are going to want to drag out a gun, and point it at his crotch, and tell him that if he hurts your little girl, you will make a Eunuch of him," Gina's voice said from the doorway, her head cocked to the side, her smile warm.

  "Sounds about right," I agreed, keeping my voice low, still not overly comfortable around babies and maybe a bit worried about what would happen if I woke her up with my deep voice and she started screaming.

  "I wish I could tell you that the worry is for nothing," she added, moving in, touching Kenzi's foot through the sheets. "But I don't want to lie to you. More than one of those guys is going to send your baby girl home sobbing her heart out. I would also like to tell you that it gets easier. It never does. Every single time you are going to want to charge out there and rip the bastard's balls off," she said, and I found myself chuckling, completely able to see that. "I raised my girls to be independent, to value themselves more than they value their worth as someone's accessory. But everyone wants to find love, and they are bound to get burned along the way. Someone hurts your baby, they hurt you too."

  "I've only known her for an hour or so, but I can already see that," I admitted.

  "All you can do is raise her to be strong and confident and know her own mind. It won't stop her from falling for the wrong guy here and there, but it will stop her from putting up with things she doesn't like, or getting involved with guys who she knows are bad news. And eventually, all those nights of crying into buckets of ice cream are going to be worth it when you see your baby finally find the right man for her. It doesn't seem like it now, it seems like no one would ever be worthy, but some day some man will, and all that stress when they were younger will be worth it."

  "So, what you're saying is, you like me, huh?" I teased as she moved toward my side to look down at the round face with a mass of dark hair already. Her eyes hadn't been opened long enough to determine if she got Kenzi's and her whole family's green eyes or my brown.

  "I love you, Tig," she said, shaking her head. And it was maybe the first time in my life that I heard those words from a maternal figure. It never even occurred to me before how fucked up that was. I certainly never thought it was words that I needed to hear, but as they settled, seeming to seep into my skin and warm through my system, I saw how much I did, how much they meant. "And believe me, watching Kenz go through all those idiots in their ridiculously expensive suits with their gazes always on their phones because work was more important to them than her, it was all worth it to see her find you. Now, I only have Reese to worry about."

  "Reese has a good head on her shoulders."

  "Yeah, the problem being she's always stuck up inside it and not actually living her life. See, we all screw up our kids in different ways, intentional or not. Even with the best intentions at heart, we allow our actions, words, and example to shape them differently. Kenzi decided to take the independent thing to an extreme, but it was okay because it made her unshakable. No man could throw her off her game. Reese, I think she fell into books because her life was so up and down with money struggles after her dad was out of our lives for good, and then her brother's getting involved with Third Street, and Kenz rebelling. Her stories enabled her to escape and have adventures in a safe way. A part of me is worried she will never look up long enough even to notice a real life flesh and blood man would be just as fun to explore."

  I wasn't going to tell her that I heard a rumor about Reese only two days before. And while she wasn't getting involved with Brock like I had once suggested to Kenz, the man on her heels was every bit the kind of man I said she needed- extroverted, but good-hearted, someone who would love her shyness, but also slowly ease her out of her comfort zones, help her grow.

  Gina would find out soon enough.

  Whether she would approve or not, well, that was up for debate.

  Her brothers, though, would not be happy.

  But I had a sneaking suspicion that he would prove himself eventually, that Gina would be able to breathe easy and know her girls were both safe and happy.

  "So, do we have a name yet or is she being as ridiculous about this as she was about naming her first hamster?"

  "Ariah. It means lion," I added, smiling at her. "She wanted to give her a fierce name."

  "That's my Kenz."

  Mine too. Mine too.

  Kenzi- 7 years

  "Ariah, stop pulling her hair," I called, my tone a little bored-sounding. This was because it was the tenth time I had to tell my stubborn little five-year-old to stop doing that. Wait, five and a half. That half was very, very important to her.

  Ariah was all me. There was no denying it. She was ten-gallons of trouble in a five-gallon bucket. She was confident, outspoken, and prone to the more than occasional temper tantrum. She also looked a lot like me- all legs, same face, same green eyes. Her skin was about one shade darker and her hair a slight bit more curly.

  On the flip side, her three-year-old sister, Bria, was all Tig. She was calm, quiet, reflective, sweet, good, and accepting. She also inherited his eyes. Her hair was black and more wavy than curly. And we had no friggin idea where this came from, but she was short of limb, something we were curious to see if she grew out of.

  She was incredibly tolerant of her dictator older sister's demands in play and didn't even bother to tattle when she did something like pull her hair. Which was why I couldn't look away from the two for a minute, or Ariah would likely get away with something that I didn't want her to get away with.

  I finally understood why my mother had needed to be so firm with me all my life, and I was more than dreading the inevitable teenage rebellion I would be looking forward to in less than ten years.

  It seemed as though all I could hope for was her up and coming wild phase wouldn't last as long as mine did.

  As for Bria, well, I had the distinct feeling she was going to be a lot like her aunt- bookish, introspective, the complete antithesis of her sister. It was like the universe understood that when it sent you a kid like me or like Ariah that it had to balance it out with a Reese or Bria.

  It had been a long, loud winter in our house with the girls all cooped up and climbing the walls, leaving me to pulling out my hair. It was the first day where the temperature went over seventy, and we were at the park, enjoying the hell out of it.

  Maybe if they ran themselves ragged, there would be no middle of the night demands for drinks or another bedtime story. Maybe Tig and I would get a blissful night alone.

  "Ariah, you're gonna lose that Barbie," I warned as she raised it up over her head, planning on slamming it down on her unknowing sister's head.

  "She looks just like you," a voice said, moving to sit down beside me on the bench.

  And, well, I would know that voice anywhere.

  It didn't matter that it had been seven years, that it belonged to someone whose name I hadn't even thought of in at least a year.

  "What are you doing here, Cass?" I asked, taking a breath and half-turning to her, maybe a bit too paranoid to give her my full attention, not sure if she was reformed or still a criminal, if maybe she would do something to my girls.

  She looked different, older certainly, though I was sure she might say the same about me. Where her hair had been short last I saw her, she had it long and shining down her back, somehow making her look even more sweet and innocent than she used to. Her fashion sense had remained the same- classy and simple.

  She held up one fine-boned hand, shaking her head slightly. "I just wanted to see you... and the girls."

  "Why?"

  She looked down at her feet for a long second.

  "I really screwed up, Kenz."

  "Yes, you did," I agreed, still not the type to sugarcoat anything.

  And, apparently, she appreciated that because her lips tipped up before she turned back to me. "You seem really happy."

  "I am."

  "And your daughters are beautiful."

  "They are."

  "And Tig has balanced you."

  "I wouldn't go that far," I snorted. I was still me. Nothing had changed. He hadn't softened me in any way. And, what's more, he never wanted to do that.

  "I'm not here to ask for forgiveness." Her voice was a little softer.

  "Good. Because I wasn't going to give it."

  "And I'm not here to try to explain myself either."

  "Because no explanation would be sufficient," I agreed, not giving her an inch. She had done nothing to deserve it. "So what are you here for then?"

  "It wasn't like you were always a mark, Kenz. You were my best friend. Really, you were my only friend for pretty much my whole life. I just... I couldn't imagine not getting to see how you ended up. You know, I couldn't have pictured you as a mother seven years ago," she said, watching the girls chase after some type of bug, squealing as they each tried to grab it out of the air.

  "I always saw myself here," I said, surprised she couldn't.

  "Work was life for you, K. I'm not saying that was wrong, but it never seemed like you would get your head up out of your sketchpad and see a man, focus on a man long enough to make it work."

  "Stranger things have happened," I said, nodding. "Like my best friend fucking me over in a truly horrific way." There, it was out. I had wanted to address it directly since I heard her voice, but wanted to do so in a way that didn't sound vulnerable, didn't give her the upper hand. "You know, I would have given you the money, Cass. If you told me that you needed to move on, that my dream wasn't yours, that you wanted to go to the city and act, I would have given you the fucking money. I wouldn't have even hesitated. You helped me get my dream on its feet; I would have happily done the same for you. I don't think I need to tell you what a crazy, fucked up bitch you were to do that to me. And not only to me, to my friends and family as well. I wouldn't have believed you were capable of something so selfish if I hadn't seen it myself."

  "Kenz..."

  "What?" I snapped, shaking my head. "Truly, what? What could you possible come up with to say right now? That Santi talked you into it? You forget, I went to all your plays in high school, Cass. I know when you're acting. And that shit on the stand, hanging Santi out to dry like that, that was an act. Granted, he was a scumbag who went along with it, but I think you were the mastermind here, Cassie. Because, quite frankly, if his aspirations in life were to join the fucking mob, then he was clearly not the brains of the operation. You did this. This was one-hundred percent on you. So, all I want to hear from you now is- was it worth it? Was it worth it to get worked over since those bruises were real? Was it worth it to lose years of your life behind bars? Was it worth it to lose the only person who ever truly gave a fuck about you?"

  She looked over to where the girls were laying flat on the ground, staring up at the sky, calm for one blissful moment. Her breath exhaled out of her hard enough to make her whole body move with the motion.

  When she looked back at me, there was no acting, just pure, raw emotion on her face. "No," she said, standing, pushing her purse further up on her shoulder. "I know you don't want to hear it, and I know it won't change anything, but I am sorry. And I wish nothing but the best for you, Tig, and the girls."

  With that, she walked away.

  I watched, maybe still a little paranoid about her, until she disappeared into a car driven by a man and disappeared.

  She was right.

  I didn't want to hear it.

  It didn't change a damn thing.

  She would never be in my life again; she would never get to go out with Tig and me and have some drinks; she would never know what my daughters' voices sounded like. There were some forms of betrayal that could never be forgiven.

  But somehow, there was finality to it right then.

  While I had absolutely moved on and lived a life and had successfully not even thought Cassie's name in a long, long time, there was always a crack there.

  Her showing up had effectively sealed it.

  That moment right there, it was what everyone with a broken heart or crushed betrayal hoped for.

  It was closure.

  "Mommy!" Ariah screamed, making my gaze jerk back to her, heart beating wildly, only to find her standing there, hands on her hips, legs wide, being a boss babe like her mother.

  "What?"

  "Bria won't bow down," she said, sending her sister small eyes, and I couldn't help but laugh. "I'm the queen, and she won't bow down."

  Oh, she was going to be a handful, that was for sure.

  And she was going to make some poor sap miserably happy some day.

  Tig- 17 years

  It was a nightmare.

  "Tig, you need to breathe," Kenzi reminded me, giving me a smirk that said she thought I was being completely ridiculous. To her, I likely was.

  "Daddy, you knew this day was coming," Ariah said, shaking her head at me. "I gave you two weeks notice."

  She had.

  It didn't matter.

  Two years notice wouldn't have prepared me.

  Was any decent father ever ready for his little girl to start dating?

  Of course, for me, the issue was compounded, knowing in painful detail what had happened to my own sister at Ariah's age. For me, it was hard to draw a line and say that was impossible.

  Though the rational part of me knew the situations were completely different. Rainy had been naive and easily led, living in a shit area with shit upbringing, with no self-confidence, and no decent options for men.

  Ariah was, well, Kenzi 2.0.

  She was the badass, loud-mouthed, hyper-confident, no-holds-barred, smart-as-a-whip, independent, take-no-shit child that had been nothing but a delightful handful all her life. When Ariah got her mind on something, there was no changing it, no reasoning with her, and no end in sight to the shit she would stir until she got her way.

  She had nothing but positive female role models around her from her grandmother and great-aunts to her own mother, aunt, Alex, Jstorm, Riya... the list went on and on.

  On top of that, just as important when raising a young woman who might eventually date men, she was surrounded by just as many good men. She had me and Sawyer, Brock, Paine, Enzo, Barrett, Shooter, Breaker... again, the list went on and on. Each and every one of them showed her how good men treated women, what behaviors should and should not be tolerated. It also gave her insulation. She was safe from any eye watching her, any hand touching her, until she was old enough to make those choices for herself, never being rushed into the experience like so many girls did way too soon.

  It was the right time for her.

  I knew that.

  I knew that because I knew that her school work, her girl squad, her life was her main focus, that she wasn't boy crazy or starved for attention. She was making the decision because it felt right, because the guy was deemed worthy not only by her, but all her strong, no-nonsense female friends.

 

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