I shrugged, but my throat was burning. “Me too.”

Cross was coming out from the bedroom.

He stopped just short of the stairs, taking in the scene.

I didn’t say anything. He didn’t either, but we watched each other as I passed by, heading for the door. It was enough, and I drew in some needed strength from Jordan, and from that look with Cross, and somehow, it worked.

The tightness in my chest loosened.

Chapter Forty-Three

BREN

I walked inside Coug r Lanes and my first encounter was Brock, coming my way.

There was a whole storm on his face. I stepped back, more out of self-preservation, but he swept past me. His hand took my arm and he pulled me right back outside, right back where I’d come from.

“Hey. Hello.”

I pulled my arm from his grasp. “Don’t touch me like that again.”

He held his hands up. “Sorry.” His eyes went past me, to the door. “You know who’s in there?”

“What?”

“Your fath—”

That was all I needed to hear.

I swept right back inside, and there he was. I would’ve seen him the first time if Brock hadn’t distracted me.

Sitting in a booth, one of the only three we had along those walls, his back was to the door. Papers were spread out in front of him. A cup of coffee and a pitcher on the table. He had a small plate, and what looked like the last crumbles of a muffin. There was a laptop opened up as well.

I stepped so I was right in front of him, and he looked up. A slow smile spread over his face, but he was expecting me. Well, he was in my workplace, so that was a no-shit moment.

“Bren!”

“Dad.” I took in the papers. They were applications. A pair of reading glasses was on the other side of the laptop, along with a cell phone. “What are you doing?”

“I’m applying for jobs.” He shot a grin over my shoulder. “I didn’t think they’d hire me here, but I was tempted. You looking for more help manning the bowling alley? I know a bit of maintenance, could help fix things when they break.”

Brock’s voice was low and tense. “I’m thinking that’s a pass.”

Derrick laughed.

My dad. Derrick.

My head was swimming.

“That’s what I thought.”

Brock settled behind me, his hand coming down on the table. “You can’t stay here.”

“Why not?” He motioned to me. “I thought I could be here, do some work, and be here when my daughter had some free time? I promise to keep ordering if that’s the issue.”

“That’s not the issue, and you know it.”

Brock nudged me, so I shifted, facing him and my dad at the same time. My back was now mostly turned toward the door.