Page 18 of Long Way Home

“Grace called it a favor.”

“Yeah, well, Emma called it a date.” Taking advantage of a man’s obvious mental distress wasn’t very sportsmanlike, but I did it anyway and got him with a right hook. “Not that it matters, right?” I taunted.

Liam’s only answer was a nasty blow to my ribs that had me nearly dry heaving. That said it all, but he didn’t have to say anything. I already knew.

It had been five years since the car accident that took Daniel from us, and Liam had cared for Emma and Blair like they were his own every day since. He never missed a school event or holiday, and when Blair had night terrors about her dad dying, Liam had slept on the floor next to her bed for a solid month. But it was more than that. He made it his life’s mission to keep Daniel’s memory alive and present for them. Sharing stories, memories, photographs.

He never talked about Daniel with the rest of us, not the way he did with Emma and Blair, but I knew he’d taken his brother’s death hard. There was no moving on for him.

Only an asshole with an apathetic will to live would push that button.

I pushed it hard.

“I figured you’d be happy Emma was finally dating.” I danced around him, quick on my feet. “Maybe she’ll get married again. Then you’re off the hook. No more surrogate dad duty.”

The words weren’t even fully out of my mouth before I was on my back, vision hazy, ears ringing. Liam loomed over me.

“The hell is wrong with you?” he demanded, pulling off his gloves.

That depended on who you asked. According to one therapist, it was a wicked combination of PTSD and survivor’s guilt. According to my dad, ingratitude.

“Hey.” Liam delivered three brisk pats to my cheek. “You gonna black out?”

I turned my head carefully to the left, then the right, making sure my brain didn’t feel like a bowling ball in my skull. “Nah, I’m fine.”

“Good. Don’t ever say shit like that to me again.” He hauled me to my feet. “Blair has a dad. Nothing will ever change that. I’m not a surrogate for Daniel. I’m her uncle, and that’s not a duty I ever want out of.”

“Yeah. I know. I shouldn’t have said it.”

I focused on my gloves so I wouldn’t have to meet his eyes. Making one glove into a clamshell, I used it to tug open the Velcro on the other glove. I wedged it under my arm and pulled my hand free, then got my other glove off and tossed them both in the general direction of my bag.

“Is this about Lila?”

My head jerked up. “What?”

Liam shifted, frowning. He didn’t seem interested in meeting my eyes, either. “You’re always a little reckless, but the things you said, it’s like you wanted me to beat the crap out of you. The only thing I can figure is, your ex-wife showed up here bleeding, and you’re in a really shitty mood about it.”

What the hell was happening right now? Liam Cole wanted to talk about feelings? I could not have been more shocked if a parade of elephants had done a cancan line right through the dojo.

“Sure, Liam, let’s talk about Lila. Right after we talk about Emma’s date, because there’s a lot more we can say about that.”

“Fuck you, Seb.”

I gave him a two-fingered salute as I made for the door. “See you tomorrow.”

I didn’t go straight home. First, I took a detour to the goat pen, because those adorable assholes were escape artists and had a tendency to get into trouble. If there was a stupid way to do a stupid thing, they’d do it. I felt a certain kinship with them.

Sure enough, Gumbo was standing on the mounting block in the center of the riding ring—not in the goat pen. It was the fourth time the black-and-white goat had escaped in the past two weeks, and I had no idea how she was accomplishing it. I’d checked the wire fence and couldn’t find a hole, and it was too high for her to clear with a jump. We weren’t stupid enough to leave anything near the fence that a goat could climb on, either.

“Gumbo.” I put my hands on my hips. “Get your ass over here.”

Goats weren’t known for doing as they were told, and Gumbo was no exception. She looked at me with her weird devil eyes and screamed.

When I finally rectified that situation fifteen minutes later, I was covered in dust and goat hair.

I spent the next hour after that expanding the goats’ play area. We had some old tractor tires, and rather than add them to the landfill crisis, I buried them halfway in the ground to give the goats something fun to climb on.

After that, I checked on the pigs, even though pigs scared the hell out of me. They were smart except when it came to food. If something was in front of them, they ate it, whether that something was corn mash or a man’s foot. Generally, I liked to stick to the horses and goats and leave the pigs for braver souls.