“No.” Kyler shuts down that train of thought quicker than I can blink. “You can leave now. Leighton and I have some things to discuss about getting in vehicles with people.”
“Is this a stranger danger talk?” Garrick asks with amusement flashing in his eyes. “Because I’m fairly certain that I’m not stranger to anybody at this point.”
I’ve heard that he’s cocky, but I’ve never really saw it firsthand. I can’t say I blame him for being this way though when Kyler is giving him a death glare like he just picked up a ten-year-old off the street like some perv offering me candy. And that thought, well, it’s three times more embarrassing than what I already feel building inside my hollowed-out ribcage.
Tugging on Ky’s arm, I murmur, “Come on. Let’s go inside.” When he doesn’t budge right away, I whisper, “Please?”
Garrick and Zayne leave shortly after, both bidding me goodbye. When the front door closes behind me, Kyler starts in on me. “What the fuck were you thinking?”
Flinching, I sit down on the couch and peek at his angry expression. “It was just a ride, and I didn’t give them our gate code.”
“You should have never gotten in the car with them. Garrick is—” He shakes his head, running his fingers through his hair. “Did you know Zayne got into a car accident and paralyzed someone? He was speeding and wasn’t paying attention. I don’t want you around them.”
I hadn’t heard that. “Zayne wasn’t driving though.” It’s not a response that eases his anger, so I add, “It really wasn’t a big deal. Garrick even did the speed limit.” Mostly.
I don’t bother adding that they live somewhere around here because that wouldn’t go over well when he’s already fuming.
“Call me next time.”
“You were busy!”
“Then call Mia.” I’m about to tell him that I was going to, but his phone goes off and he grabs it with a curse before pressing it to his ear and growling, “What?”
The way his body goes rigid makes me have a pretty good idea of who is on the other end. He always gets like this when Harry reaches out. Some things never change.
“No. Why would we do that?” His nostrils flare as he gives me a quick look, then starts walking toward the kitchen. “Absolutely not. She owes you nothing.”
She? I stand and follow him, ignoring the privacy he wants. When he sees me, he shoots me a disapproving look but doesn’t move again. “I don’t really give a fuck what you want.”
A pause, then Kyler curses and hangs up the phone, setting it down a little too hard on the countertop.
“So…what was that about?” I kick at the floor with my tip of my shoe.
He wets his lips, looking away before exhaling loudly. “Harry would like us to come over for dinner. He says he wants to catch up.”
“Catch up?” I repeat doubtfully. “Like, with both of us? Because I can just stay here if he wants to—”
His glare is back. “You honestly think he and I want to have dinner together one on one, Len?” The shortened name gives me hope that he’s not as angry. “Try again. Yes, he wants us both there. If for no other reason, to have you as a buffer so I don’t chew him out.”
“Why would you do that?”
He deadpans. “Why wouldn’t I?”
I’m sad their relationship hasn’t improved over the years. Did they even try? I know Kyler and, to some degree, Harry. Neither of them is particularly fond of being the bigger person.
“What do you want to do?” I ask lamely.
He studies me before dropping onto a stool and sighing into his hands. After cracking his neck and rolling his shoulders, he finally looks at me again. “What do you want to do?”
I blink. “Me?”
He nods once.
“I…” I’ve never been a fan of dinners with Harry. We haven’t done it in a long time. Not since the night before the truth came out. But I want to see them talk. How long has it been since they sat face to face? It could do them good. “Maybe we should go. Just for a little while.”
I can tell he doesn’t like my answer, but he doesn’t shoot me down either. That’s a step in the right direction. Eventually, after another sigh and soft curse he must think I can’t hear, he grumbles, “Great. Dinner with Dad.”
I want to remind him that he’s not my father. Not like we thought he was. In my mind, I liked thinking Harry was upset by it. That maybe, just maybe, he wanted another child—I liked the idea that he may have even liked me.