Page 24 of The Beekeeper

Wade made a low sound while he thought for a second. “Lou’s family has a friend who’s a realtor. Aria St. George. She was Max’s realtor when he had his house listed for sale. Do you want me to see if she can help?”

“Yeah. I’ll take anything at this point. Hell, if you happen to know what the laws are around squatter’s rights in Maine, I’ll happily consider it.”

“Let’s try to avoid any options that require breaking the laws.”

“For now,” I said, pressing my foot down harder on the rock, using the pain to chain my focus away from the window.

“Whatever you decide, Blaze, to stay or move, I’ll have your back and fight this case with everything I’ve got.”

“Thanks,” I said, grateful for my brother’s unwavering support, but I already knew we couldn’t stay at the apartment. The GAL’s suggestion was like a caption to my daily reality. I didn’t need the paparazzi’s antics or my daughter’s fear spelled out for me when I was living it—seeing it every day. I didn’t know what I was hoping for except that some other solution would’ve presented itself instead.

“Is Paisley still coming over tonight?”

“If that’s okay⁠—”

“You know it is,” my brother cut me off. “You’re welcome to stay for dinner, too.”

“Thanks, but it sounds like I have to figure out a way to uproot my life again.” And watch my daughter break apart when I told her we were moving. Plus, after what I just witnessed, I was going to need an empty apartment and a cold shower.

“All right. See you later.”

I mumbled goodbye and continued to watch them through the window. I couldn’t bring myself to go back inside yet. Not until I had a plan.

I used to be the guy who flew—and fucked—by the seat of his pants. And I paid the price for it. Fines. Lawsuits. Rehab. Losing five years with a daughter I never knew existed. But now with Pais, I needed a plan. So much of her life had been uprooted and destroyed by the flip of fate. I wouldn’t add to that.

So how the hell was I going to explain moving again to her?

Goddammit, Pais deserved so much better than this—better than me. I speared my fingers through my hair, shoving my phone into my pocket before my grip cracked it.

“Blaze?”

I whipped around, finding Harper poised at the door. As soon as she saw my face, she carefully closed it behind her.

“Is everything okay?” she asked, but I saw she could tell it wasn’t.

“Is it ever?” I returned sardonically. Frustrated with the GAL. With what I had to do. With how I kept reacting to the woman in front of me. As much as I didn’t want to tell her what was going on, I was beyond my breaking point. Better the truth about this than the truth about why my dick was leaking in my pants watching how her honey-soaked tongue slid over her lips.

“It was Wade. Paisley’s court-appointed advocate doesn’t think my and Paisley’s living situation is ideal given the media attention.”

“Is there something she can do about it? Like a restraining order of some kind?”

“That would be something, but no. God forbid we punish the people causing the problem,” I muttered. “She wants me—us to move. Again.”

“What?” She gaped.

“Yeah.” My chest panged as I forced my breaths to steady. “She wants to see us somewhere more secure and less accessible to the public and also close to family for support.” She should’ve just asked for a damn unicorn.

Harper tucked her arms over her chest. “How…”

“I don’t know, and yes, she can. Or at least she can let it affect my standing in the lawsuit if I don’t,” I said, almost resigned now in my anger.

“I’m so sorry, Blaze,” she said softly, the sympathy in her voice tearing right through me like a hot knife through butter. This was why she was dangerous to me. Her sweet honesty that showed in more than words. It bled into her tone. Swept over her features. Suffused into the depths of her eyes. It was what drew me to her the first time we’d met, what kept drawing me back to her all those nights—and the reason I needed to keep my distance now.

“Don’t be sorry for me,” I practically growled. “I don’t care where I live, but Paisley…”

She lowered her chin, knowing what I didn’t need to say. After losing her mother, Paisley reacted to the loss of anything like it was the loss of a limb.

“I wish there was something I could do.”