Page 118 of Chaos

“Little man.” I steady Alex with one hand, carefully shutting the door behind me with the other. “What’re you doing up?”

With force too great for such a small person, my nephew sighs. “Izzy is loud.”

“Really?” Fighting a smile, I turn the kid back the way he came. “Let’s go get him before he wakes the whole house then, yeah?”

He might make another one of those freaking aged noises, but Alex doesn’t protest as I steer him towards the nursery he spent the night in. And when I hoist a chirping Izzy into my arms, wincing as he immediately winds a fist around my freshly-dyed hair, Alex giggles and pats his chubby, sleepsuit-covered thigh affectionately.

“Auntie Lottie, can we go outside?” he asks as we meander into the kitchen, his little voice an exaggerated, pleading whisper.

Even though it’s damp and chilly this morning, and the moms of the household will probably kill me for getting their children all soggy, I can’t tell the kid no. I just nod and follow him outside, sighing when he bypasses the nice, dry, covered porch in favor of sprawling on the mildewy grass.

Grimacing as I flop beside him and the cold ground seeps through my pajamas, I balance Izzy on my bent legs and whip off my hoodie, tossing it at my older nephew so no one can say I didn’t at leasttryto to protect that precious little immune system.

Leaning back on one hand, I soak in the stillness as much as I can before the chaos begins later. The quiet. The peace—or as much peace as one can achieve whilst juggling two toddlers. In a matter of hours, the ranch will be rife with people and noise and carefully curated chaos, but for now, it’s just me and the boys. Not a soul more.

Except for the woman who emerges from the house about a half hour after us, precariously balancing three mugs of something steamy.

“Green tea,” Caroline explains as she sinks down, bare legs folded daintily beneath her. “And a hot chocolate for my favorite guy.”

I swear, Alex is the mirror image of his uncle as he blushes. He accepts the drink with some mumbled, shy gratitude, and then he’s on his feet and toddling away, probably overwhelmed by being in the presence of a pretty woman he’s not directly related to.

“He’s so cute.”

Glancing over, I find Caroline coasting a hand along her stomach, and my brows raise. “Are you…”

“What?” She frowns, then follows my gaze and chokes. “No. God, no.”

I smile a little. “God, no?”

Caroline ducks her head. “Not now. We only just got married.”

Right. Shit, I still kind of can’t believe that. “Congratulations, by the way.”

“Thanks.” She pauses, gnawing on her bottom lip. “You too.”

I’m not surprised that Lux filled her best friend in on my… circumstances—especially considering hers—but still, I flinch. Something akin to shame licks a path up my spine because I was horrible to her, I was always so fucking mean, and she never held it against me. Still, she doesn’t.

Dropping my gaze to my drowsy nephew, I fiddle with the collar of his sleepsuit. “I, uh, want to apologize. For…” Appropriate words evade me. “Everything.”

To her credit, Caroline only hesitates for a moment before setting a hand on the curve of my knee. “I appreciate that, Lottie.”

Nothat’s okay.Nodon’t worry about it. No automatic forgiveness.

My shoulders slacken, tension leaching out of them, because I really was a shithead. A drunk, angry shithead who got a kick out of… well, kicking Caroline when she was down. Because I was down, and making someone feel worse than I did made me feel better. And I do, believe it or not, regret a lot of that shitheadery, and I think Caroline brushing it off as if it was nothing would make me feel even shittier.

Just like I think what I’m about to tell her next is going to makeherfeel pretty shitty. “I, uh… I don’t know if Lux told you or if you wanna know, but I saw your dad.” I lick my lips. “At a meeting.”

A sharp inhale whistles between her lips. “She told me.”

Of course she did.

Sighing quietly, she fiddles with the hem of her silky, floral pajama shirt. “I’m sorry if he bothered you. I would say I’ll talk to him, but…”

But she doesn't talk to him. She hasn’t in years. She won’t ever again, hopefully. Because he was,is, a drunk. Destined to a life of solitude because of it.

A nasty, abusive drunk.

A drunk, angry shithead.

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