Page 21 of Endgame

From what I’d seen growing up, men that looked like Gabriel Owens were rarely monogamous. Mom had moved from man to man my whole life.

My earliest childhood memory consisted of me sitting in the back of my mother’s space wagon, with everything we owned loaded inside, waving goodbye to the man I’d later come to learn wasn’t my father, but had been a good fit at the time.

My mother may be impulsive and drawn to his lifestyle, but her heart was inthis guy. I didn’t want to see it get broken. Not now there was a baby involved.

“Rourke left for football practice a few minutes ago,” he offered. “He was dropping Amelia to the King’s place on his way. You just missed them.”

Thank god!“That’s a shame.”

“Your mom’s staying in bed for a little while longer.” Gabe smiled knowingly as he disposed of his spoon in the sink. “Morning sickness.”

“Oh joy.” Placing my mug in the sink, I wiped the corner of my mouth with my finger and flashed a false smile. “So. Will I do,Daddy?”

Gabe flushed bright red. “Let’s not.”

“What?” I feigned innocence, while enjoying making the man squirm.

“Just stick to Gabe, okay?” he muttered before taking a sip from his mug. “And you look perfectly fine.” He frowned as I sauntered out of the kitchen, blue eyes raking over me once more in obvious disproval. “Perhaps a longer skirt?”

“It’s the uniform,” I called out as I headed outside to my car, thankful to have scored myself a job so quickly.

Rourke

“WE COULD TAKE THE boat out at the end of the month. I’m tied up with work until the last week of August, but after that, I’m all yours. We could make a honeymoon out of it. What do you think?”

“Oh, Gabe! That sounds wonderful.”

“Anything for you, sweetheart, and besides; we haven’t had a proper honeymoon yet.”

“But the children?”

“Sweetheart, Rourke and Mercedes are both seventeen. Amelia’s fifteen. I would hardly call them children...”

Slamming the front door loud enough so they would hear me coming, I stalked into the kitchen, ignoring my father and his latest squeeze as I went.

“Hello, Rourke,” Blondie chirped out with a fake as fuck smile.

I grunted in acknowledgment. It was the best I could do. I didn’t like Cassidy James, and her trying to be nice to me only irritated me further. Besides, she was sitting on my father’s lap; that alone was enough to make me hurl.

“Where were you, Rourke?” Dad demanded then, wrapping an arm around his tiny wife. “It’s almost midnight.”

“Running,” I shot back as I scoured the fridge for something to eat. My gaze landed on a cellophane wrapped plate of chicken legs. I smirked to myself as I retrieved the plate and quickly disposed of the wrapping. Our housekeeper, Fran, was good like that; she always tucked away protein crammed meals for me during training season.

Tearing into one of the legs, I ignored my Dad when he said, “Running? At this time of night?” choosing to answer the calling of my stomach instead. It was only when he said, “I was worried about you,” that I deemed it appropriate to respond. And only then it was with a snort. Fucker wasn’t worried about me.

Shaking my head, I walked over to the sink and picked up the last remaining chicken leg before tossing the grease stained plate inside. “Where’s Millie?”

“Your sister’s in bed,” Dad replied. “Which is where you should be.”

Turning to face him, I leaned against the counter and cocked a brow. “Where Ishouldbe?” Did he think I was ten years old again? The sound of a car engine outside distracted me and I glowered when I realized who said car belonged to.

“Mercy’s home from work,” Cassidy chirped with a glimmer of relief in her eyes. “Thank god.” She turned to my dad and smiled. “I was so worried about her being out this late.”

My brows shot up in surprise. I thoughtStep Mommydidn’t care about anything except my father’s money, but nope. Looked like she had a soft spot for Six.

“I told you she’d be fine, sweetheart,” Dad said, soothing his little doll. “Although, there really is no need for Mercedes to be working. School is right around the corner. She should be spending her last few weeks of freedom enjoying herself.”

“Try tellingherthat,” Cassidy shot back in a weary tone. “My daughter is ferociously stubborn, Gabe.”

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