Dean hooked his thumb in the waistband of his jeans. “Well, I’ve got a bad habit of picking up speeding tickets, and I can be a sarcastic son of a bitch, but I haven’t left any old girlfriends pregnant, if that’s what you’re driving at. No bastard kids running around. I’m embarrassed to say it, Jack, but I don’t seem to be in your league.” Jack flinched, but Dean wanted to annihilate him, and he needed more. “Just to make sure you understand…The only reason I’m letting you stay here is because of Riley. You’re nothing but a sperm donor to me, pal, so keep out of my way.”

Jack wouldn’t back off. “No problem. I’m good at that.” He moved closer. “I’m only going to say this once. You got a raw deal, and I’m sorrier about that than you could ever imagine. When April told me she was pregnant, I ran as fast and as far as I could. If it had been up to me, you’d never have been born, so factor that in the next time you let her know how much you hate her.”

Dean felt sick, but he refused to look away, and Jack sneered. “I was twenty-three, man. Too young for responsibility. All I cared about was music, getting high, and getting laid. My lawyer was the guy who looked out for you when April couldn’t. He was the one who made sure there was a nanny on duty just in case your mother snorted too many lines or forgot to come home after she’d spent the night entertaining some glam rocker in gold lamé pants. My lawyer was the one who kept track of your grades. He was the one the school called when you got sick. I was too busy forgetting you existed.”

Dean couldn’t move. Jack’s lips curled. “But you have your retribution, pal. I get to spend the rest of my life seeing the man you’ve become and knowing—if it had been up to me—you’d never have drawn your first breath. How cool is that?”

Dean couldn’t handle any more, and he turned away, but Jack had one last missile to toss at his back. “I promise you one thing. I won’t ever ask you to forgive me. I can at least do that.”

Dean rushed into the foyer and out the front door. Before he knew it, he’d reached the caravan.

Blue had just fallen asleep when the door of her peaceful habitat blew open. She fumbled for her flashlight and finally managed to flip it on. He was bare-chested, and his eyes glittered like midnight ice. “Not a word,” he said, slamming the door so hard the wagon shook. “Not one word.”