Page 46 of Inked Daddies

No matter how much I wantthem.

My happiness is…well, I have a whole future ahead of me. I can find happiness somewhere else. Probably.

But Dad, as popular as he is in Auclair, being the preacher with the biggest congregation in the parish, doesn’t have a lot of close friends. Just the guys. He drinks and curses around them, but not anyone else in the congregation. More important than that, helaughswith them. There’s a sense of camaraderie with the guys that he doesn’t have with anyone else, not since the divorce.

How could I possibly be so selfish as to take that from him?

I stare at the cutting board, my hands trembling as I dice the onion into uneven pieces. The sharp smell stings my eyes, but I barely notice.

I have to stay away from the shop. No matter how good it was. No matter how much I want more. Because it’s not worth it. Not if it means losing him. Not if it means destroying everything.

I take a shaky breath, wiping my hands on a dish towel as I force the thoughts aside. Tears stream down my cheeks. Damn onions.

Whatever the four of us had, it’s done. It has to be.

19

SAM

The shop is too quiet.

Usually, by this time of night, Trick would be cracking jokes as we close up, Hugo would be leaning into some dry remark, and I’d be pretending to scowl while secretly enjoying the chaos. Right now, though, we’re all dawdling. I’ve been going back and forth, cleaning, trying to figure out how to say what’s on my mind. Hugo is leaning on the wall like he thinks he’s holding it up. Trick’s toying with a tattoo gun.

This ain’t normal.

Tonight, there’s just this heavy, suffocating silence. And I know it’s on me to break it. That’s what I do. I’m the one who breaks bad news or handles a tough call. I’m the guy who does the bad thing for the good reasons. In some ways, that makes this easier.

But nothing will make it easy.

I’ve been pacing for what feels like forever, trying to find the right words to say, but there’s no easy way to do this. No way to sugarcoat the truth or soften the blow. Finally, I stop in themiddle of the room, my arms folded, and let out a slow, steady breath.

“We can’t do this.”

Hugo looks up from where he’s leaning against the wall, his expression unreadable. Trick stops fiddling with the tattoo gun, his brows furrowing.

“Do what?” Trick asks. He’s gonna make me spell it out because he wants me to squirm. He wants to drag this out so he can poke holes in my theory.

Fine. I’ll do what I have to do to make them see the ugly truth.

“This,” I say, gesturing vaguely to the room. To the chair where Marie sat just hours ago, her laughter still echoing in my mind. To the space she’s left behind, the one I already feel like I can’t fill. “Us with Marie. We can’t…we can’t pursue her.”

The words are just air, but they feel like a semitruck rolling into us, and the following silence is even worse.

Trick frowns, his confusion giving way to disbelief. “You’re joking, right?”

Hugo straightens up, his arms crossing over his chest as his eyes narrow. “Why not?”

I let out a long, heavy breath, running a hand through my hair. “Because it’s not fair. To her. Or to Preacher.”

“Preacher?” Hugo repeats, raising an eyebrow. “What does he have to do with this?”

“Everything, and you know it,” I say sharply, meeting his gaze. “You know how protective he is of her. You saw how freaked out he was just because she wasn’t home on time when Crowcame around. What do you think he’d do if he found out what happened tonight?”

“He’d be pissed,” Trick says reluctantly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean, I get that. But come on, Sam. She’s not a child. He’d get over it, wouldn’t he? Eventually?”

I shake my head, my stomach twisting at the thought. “This isn’t just about him being mad, Trick. This is about what it would do to him, and tothem. She’s his daughter. Hisonlykid that we know of, and after losing his ex-wife…you saw what that did to him, and they were just exes. And we’re…” I trail off, gesturing between the three of us. “We’re supposed to be his friends. Hisbrothers in arms.”

Hugo scoffs, the sound low and dismissive. “Give him more credit than that. Preacher’s not some saint, Sam. The guy’s lived a life. He knows we’ve all made mistakes. So has he.”

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