I step outside my lawyer’s office and immediately dial a number.

“Dane, h—.”

“Did you know?”

The line goes silent for half a second.

“What are y—.”

“Ma, please don’t lie to me. Did. You. Know?”

I hear her sharp intake of breath and I close my eyes, fist balling up. I could punch through a fucking wall right now.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“We didn’t think that it was in your best interests.” She whispers, and even the pain in her voice can’t dull any of mine.

She knows she’s wrong, and I can’t be the one to comfort her right now.

Not when all I feel is betrayal on all sides.

“I can’t even…I gotta go.”

“Dane, pl—.” I hang up and clench my fingers around the phone, willing myself not to smash it against the concrete like I want to.

It buzzes in my hand and even though I know it’s probably my mom again, I look at it anyway.

It’s Keyra.

And I realize that I can’t put off talking to her any longer.

“Hey,” I answer. “I’m coming over.”

* * *

I stand in front of Keyra’s door, hands in my slacks, fidgeting.

I never fidget. I haven’t had a nervous habit since I was 10 and Miss Catherine told me if I drummed my fingers on the desk one more time, she’d snap ‘em with a ruler.

Every time I started to, I remembered that ruler sitting front and center on her desk and held my hands in my lap instead.

I don’t want to go in there.

I don’t have anything to offer her.

My phone vibrates and I don’t bother taking it out because I know she’s calling to ask where I am.

Cussing, I knock, and it swings open almost immediately.

I keep my hands in my pockets because if I don’t, I’m going to pull her to me.

Her dark hair curls over one bare shoulder and my gaze is glued to the mark from my mouth I can see just above her collarbone. She shrugs, adjusting her sweater to cover it and I drag my gaze to hers. The cool Keyra I met that first night at the gala is on full display and I can’t find a trace of warmth in her brown eyes.

She doesn’t say anything, just widens the door and I walk in, standing awkwardly in the middle of the room.

I should’ve known Keyra wouldn’t make it easy for me. I didn’t expect her to, but some part of me was hoping for a way out. For her to shoot me down before I could even get started.

“Say the words, Dane.” Her stare is unwavering, and I’m too much of a damned coward to hold it.

“Last night shouldn’t have happened.” I start.

“And why’s that? Because we’re friends?” As casual as if we’re talking about the weather, she walks to an armchair and curls her feet into it, leaning her chin against a propped up hand.

I close my eyes, swallowing. I’m a fucking coward and I know it.

“Because I used you.” My voice is hoarse because it physically pains me to say the words, and you could hear a pin drop in the silence that follows.

“Look at me.” I hear a rustle and I know she’s stood but I keep my gaze on her cream carpet. “Look at me.” She stops right in front of me but doesn’t touch me. I can see her chest rising and falling.

My hands curl at my sides against my pants, but I stay rooted to my spot.

“I have a daughter,” I confess. “I have a daughter and I didn’t know. Everyone back home kept it from me, because they thought it would be a bad situation because of who her mother is.”

“So you’re pushing me away because there might be some drama?” I see her hand lift like she’s going to touch me and I step out of reach.

“I…last night was me needing a distraction. I used you as that distraction because you were available. Because it didn’t matter then.”

“It didn’t matter.” She echoes, moving away from me. I glance up and she crosses her arms, and paces away to the window before swinging her head back to me, accusation in her face. “So you didn’t want me? What, you were just putting on a show?”

“I wanted you last night. But I don’t want anything more than that. Don’t need anything else.”

She laughs, but there’s no humor in it.

“You put our friendship on the line all because you needed to fuck something. That it?”

I skip my eyes away from hers, staring at the wall above her head. Fuck me, this is the hardest thing I’ve ever done.

“No.” She walks closer, poking me in the chest and grabbing my chin. “Look at me when you slap me in the face this way. I want to see your face when you disrespect me. Give me that at least, since I was just convenient for you.”

There’s fire and ice in her brown eyes, but I do as she asks.

“It was a mistake.”

Her gaze shutters and her hand clenches on my face like she wants to do more than grip it, but she drops it. I would feel better if she slapped me, hit me, railed at me.

“Get out.” I shove my hands in my slacks, opening my mouth to say something. To apologize. I don’t know. I just…something.

“Key—.”

“And maybe don’t tell people your father is dead when he isn’t. Are you just completely emotionally dead, or what?”

“What are you talking about?” I croak and she snaps her mouth shut, shaking her head.

“Nothing. Just…get out.”

“No, what are you talking about. You talked to my father?”

“You don’t get to…accuse me of something. To sound like I betrayed you.”

“Did you know too?” Some part of me tells me it’s a ridiculous question, but I latch onto it like it’s the only life-boat left and the ship’s sinking.

“Did I know what?” She hisses.

“I haven’t talked to my father in years. Suddenly, he’s here? In New York? Aren’t you the one who always knows everything before anyone else? It’s your job to know people’s secrets. Maybe you decided to go digging around in my past. Maybe you found him, convinced him to come shit on my life like this.” My voice is low and I watch the thunder growing on her face almost like I’m not right there, like I’m above myself, but I don’t stop the words from coming. “Did you think you could reconcile us? That he’d get back into my good graces if he was the only one in my family to tell me about my fucking child? Maybe the both of you cooked it up together, maybe you told him I’d be at the bar. Is this your fault, Keyra? Huh?”

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. “Dane, I want you to leave.”

“That’s all you’ve gotta say?” I laugh. “That’s it? Not that you weren’t involved? Just for me to leave? God, I feel so fucking stupid. I came over here feeling like shit, knowing I was wrong last night - and it’s you. You fucking did this.”

“I have never been as disgusted by another person as I am with you right now. I can’t believe that you’re such a coward that you’ve now made me the perpetrator in your bullshit-ass story. You’ve got two seconds to get the fuck out of my house, and leave my goddamned key, because you can’t come back from this.” Her teeth are gritted and she’s leaning on the back of her couch with one hand, rubbing her forehead with the other.

“Gla—.”

“GET OUT!” She turns and yells, and I’m shocked. “GET. OUT.”

I pull out my key ring and slide hers off, dropping it on the carpet. The air is tense and heavy and I open her door, pausing, everything running through my mind.

No. It doesn’t matter who I thought she was if she manipulated me that way - she’s the same as everyone else.

I close the door behind me and flinch when I hear something crash against it.

I steel my back, shaking the feelings away.

It’s not my problem anymore.

* * *

“My girlfriend wants your head on a platter.” The first words out of Harlan’s mouth when I open the door aren’t a surprise to me. “Keyra sent some cryptic text and now she’s giving me the silent treatment.”

“I guess there goes my invite to Easter Sunday?” I sip the bourbon in my hand, waving him inside.

“You don’t think whatever this is will have blown over by then?” He rakes a hand through his hair then crosses his arms, eyes flashing. “Fuck did you do? The women have closed ranks, and I think I’m guilty by association.”

“Well, first things first, I have a daughter.” I drain the last of the glass and start to pour another.

Fuck it, who needs a glass? I’m going to finish the bottle anyway. I sip from the lip, feeling weary as hell. Every time things feel stable, smooth and I can focus on the game I love - something happens.

Harlan silently holds out his hand for the bottle, taking a swig and pulling out his phone. “I think we need the cavalry.”

And like a group of old women, they come.

My brothers. The ones who have my back even when I don’t deserve a single damn thing.