“I’ll handle my mother. This is my home, not hers. It’s my money we’re spending. Not hers.” I remind him yet again. Once Tillie Nottingham gets her claws in you, it’s hard to get them to retract. I need Mr. Garcia and anyone he hires to understand that I’m the homeowner and the person in charge of the decisions. I’ve sat on the sidelines to my mother for years. I needed her, but I’m a grown woman, and while I appreciate all that she’s done for me, it’s time for me to start making my own choices. Consequences be damned.Chapter 2KentI’m sitting in the middle of the living room floor surrounded by my nieces and nephews. Ryder, the youngest at three months, is in my arms, his little eyes darting all around as he takes in the loudness that is his big sister and his cousins.
“Uncle Kent, I’m big like you,” Knox says, scooting over to sit next to me, his legs crossed at the ankles like mine.
“My man,” I say, holding my fist out for him. He bumps it like we taught him to when he was just a tiny thing. He’s the oldest of this brood, and I feel sorry for Everly, Daisy, and Finley. He’s definitely going to be the protector for his baby sister and cousins. My guess is that Beckett, Benjamin, and even Ryder are going to follow right along in his footsteps. My brothers are raising their sons right.
The girls are putting bows in my hair from their gifts while the boys and I play trucks. Ryder is my sidekick, so he’s currently chewing on my truck. It’s soft, unlike the others, but hey, I’m the cool uncle, so he had to be involved.
There’s a smile on my face as I interact with the kids, but all the while my mind is racing. Ridge said we’re starting a job at the Nottingham Estate. It’s been almost five years since I’ve been there. Not long after my visit there, the Nottingham family moved away to California to be closer to their daughter.
“Uncle Kent.” Finley pats me on the cheek. “I’m a pwincess.” She twirls in her little pink dress that Santa brought her.
“You ladies, all three of you, are beautiful princesses,” I tell them. I can’t play favorites, and all the girls are dressed up like princesses. I can tell the wives coordinated. More than likely they went shopping together.
I love how our group is growing. Every one of my brothers has found their perfect match, and their littles… they have their tiny hands rooted deep in my chest and around my heart. The guys tell me it’s different when it’s your own, but I don’t know how that could be. I love these kiddos as if they were mine.
And today, I’m thankful to have them. Memories invade my thoughts, but they don’t seem to notice, not like their parents would. Instead of trying to make small talk while my mind is pulling up every memory—no, that’s not right; it’s more like every second, every minute, every hour, every breath I ever took with her—that’s what my mind is flashing like a movie reel. Not that this is a new occurrence. I’ve been thinking about her a lot lately. Hell, I never stopped thinking about her.
Delaney Nottingham was the one who got away. I was the dumb fuck who let her slip through my fingers. I had her, and then one day, she was just… gone. She never came home again, and her parents moved away.
I stood her up that final day. I didn’t treat her the way she’d deserved to be treated. I fucked up and lost her. It was then I admitted to myself what I had known all along. I loved her. Up until that final night, I’d tried to show her. I worshiped her body, showing her with my actions what she meant to me. They say actions speak louder than words, and I think they do. Which is why my actions that final night, pushed her away. One night of not showing up, of not giving her the love and respect she deserved and here I am, almost five years later, without her.
Lesson learned.
Mara sits next to me on the floor and Finley climbs into her lap. “You need one of those,” she says, leaning her shoulder against mine.
“Yeah, maybe one day.” The problem is the only woman I’ve ever imagined having this kind of life with is Delaney. I’m sure she’s married with kids by now. Kids that aren’t mine.
“Well, until you meet the woman who’s going to knock you off your feet, you’re a good uncle. Think of it as training for when that day comes.” Mara smiles as she reaches over and runs her index finger over Ryder’s tiny hands.