Cross laughed, his head dipping as he dropped a kiss to my shoulder. “No. Blaise is not a skin rash. He’s just straight up hives. The more stressed I get, the worse he becomes.”

Hives. It fit.

“Jordan and Zellman seem to like his teammates, though.”

“I know.” He sounded disappointed.

We sat there for a bit in silence. It felt nice, hearing the soft sounds of the party now, watching the flicker of the bonfire below, and somehow I felt full inside. Full of life, memories, or just family. I wasn’t going to question it too much. I felt good. I was going with that.

Then Cross’ arm tightened again, and my stomach took a dip.

His chest tensed behind me, and my stomach really took a dip.

If Cross was going to whisk me away from the window for the bed, he wouldn’t have tensed. He would’ve just done it, and then landed on top of me. This, he was preparing himself to tell me something, and I knew innately that it wasn’t something I wanted to hear.

I was going to take a guess. “I can only think of one reason my employers would keep me out of the offices.”

Cross froze behind me.

“And I’ve given it some thought, but I’m wondering was it only my father they had on a wall, or was I up there, too?”

It’s the only explanation that made sense, and why Cross kept me out and why he called Channing first.

Cross cursed behind me.

I was right.

Forget churning, my stomach fell out.

I knew, but… I’d been hoping I’d been wrong.

Cross filled me in on everything, and afterwards, I just sat there. I couldn’t move. Think. Feel. Nothing. Because I knew. I knew.

My dad. This was all about my dad.

It was finally time that I dealt with my dad.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

BREN

Jordan was up when I was grabbing coffee the next morning. I saw him outside, a mug in front of him, and he was staring off at the bonfire that still had a little smoke coming from it. I grabbed my own cup, checked the time, and since I had a few minutes before I had to leave, I headed outside.

“Hey.”

The morning air was crisp and chilled.

Jordan looked over, bags under his eyes. His head inclined and he raised his hand a tiny bit off the table. “Morning.”

They partied late last night. We heard them, though they weren’t too loud. What I definitely knew I’d heard late into the night or early into the morning was someone giggling.

I asked, “Did you have an overnight guest?”