I handed her the hundred-dollar bill from my dresser. “For the cab.”

She held up her hand, shaking her head. “No, that’s fine, thank you. I got it.” She snatched up her bag and shoes and fled from the room.

Relieved she was finally leaving, I started down the hall, wondering what Oliver would decide to paint when he got home. He always surprised me with what he came up with, and he knew his way around the canvas well for not even four years old. My greatest pleasure was sitting back and watching his creations come to life.

“Who the hell are you?” The familiar snarl of Julia’s voice boomed from the foyer, halting me in my tracks.

I held my breath, pleading with the universe that Oliver wasn’t with her. My mother always brought him home so she could spend some extra time with us, but there was a chance Julia would bring him if something had changed.

Oliver had never witnessed a woman sneaking from my bed, because I’d never allow that to happen. He needed to be a believer, and grow up looking for the woman who’d love and support him. It was one of the reasons I considered myself lucky he spent time with Katherine while I worked: He saw a beloved wife, and when she was with Lawrence, Oliver had the privilege of seeing how it was supposed to be. I didn’t want him to accept my single status as the norm. I wished for him to grow up and not only adore women, but find the one woman to love.

I personally stopped at the adoring part, taking a brief hands-on approach before releasing women back into nature for someone interested in taming. I was just as wild, and not interested in being restrained.

When I rounded the corner to the entryway, I found the front door wide open. Fall leaves blew in from the porch, and my sister was standing toe-to-toe with Macey, as I’d expected.

Julia was a straight shooter. She didn’t take shit from anyone, and was as stubborn and whiny as they came. She was graduating high school soon, and growing into an interesting young woman. I looked forward to the day she met her match: someone to calm those temperamental mood swings. It would either take a real man or a real fool, but if he treated her well, I’d buy him a drink…regularly. He’d need it.

Darting my gaze around the room, I strode past Julia and peered outside. No Oliver. I sighed with relief, stroking my hand across my jaw. Thank Christ. Julia would’ve shed blood.

I closed the door for privacy in case my sister made a scene and turned, walking back around her. “Why so early, Julia?” I asked, ignoring the standoff she was in the middle of.

“Who’s the slut?” she hissed, shooting a judgmental glare my way.

“Hey!” Macey shrieked. “I’m not a slut! And who are you?”

This wouldn’t end well. “Go,” I said, looking at Macey.

Her expression held nothing but disgust. Probably assuming my statement about being single was a lie, she brushed past Julia and yanked the door open. Just as she was about to shut it behind her, her narrowed eyes caught mine. “You’re a pig!”

If that was the only scene she’d make, I’d take it. It wasn’t the first time I’d heard a similar comment, and it was one of the friendlier versions. I let her believe what she wanted, unaffected when the door slammed shut.

I would’ve considered the morning a success if I wasn’t standing next to a ticking explosive ready to detonate.

“Walk and criticize,” I said, heading down the hall again. “Oliver will be here soon.”

“Are you kidding me right now?” Julia bellowed, stomping along beside me.

“What?” I asked, a smirk playing on my lips.

“What? Screw you, Logan, I’m not a child. I know exactly why the whore was leaving.” She made a choking sound, followed by a drawn-out “Yuck!”

She didn’t miss a beat as we entered my studio to set things up for Oliver.

“Since when do you bring sluts to your house, huh? I thought you were a hotel/motel type of guy. And her outfit!” Her face screwed up. “Oh my God, could she be more lewd? Her tits were falling out, and her ass barely fit—”

“Don’t be crude.” I stopped dead in my tracks and shot her a disapproving scowl.

“Oh, get over yourself! You have horrible taste in women: always the least dressed, it seems.”

I wasn’t about to discuss my sex life with my baby sister, so I had to shut it down. “It makes it convenient.”

The look on her face told me that did the trick.

“Gross! No wonder Jax admires you so much. I can’t have two brothers with no standards.”

“Are you implying one of us still has potential?” I questioned, brow cocked, smug grin in place. “Because I’ve seen a few of the coeds Jax sneaks in here when he stays over. I’d question his standards first.”

Frustrated, she stomped her foot and balled her hands into fists. Yes, ticking time bomb for sure. I couldn’t help but find the humor in it.

“Ugh, not the point! What if I had Oliver with me today? He doesn’t need to see a tossed-aside tramp in his home.” Her head tilted to the side as she watched my amusement disappear. “I don’t think you want him to, either—unless you have some twisted plan for him to grow up and follow in you and Jax’s disgusting footsteps.”

My jaw worked tight under my skin, back teeth grinding together as anger brewed deep within me. My son would be better than me—and better than Jax, who incorrectly thought he had life figured out.

I stepped forward, making myself clear as I growled, “He won’t. I don’t bring anyone around Oliver, so stop being so fucking dramatic!”

With that, I started toward the large table in the room full of supplies. I ran my hands over my face, digging them in, the pressure easing my aggravation. I picked out Oliver’s favorite brushes, then scanned over the paints.

“Look, I…I know you’re an amazing father, Logan, but lately you seem to be…I don’t know…different.”

“Different how?” I challenged. I spent every morning with Oliver, making him breakfast and dressing him for Katherine’s, and from the moment I picked him up after work he had my full attention until I tucked him into bed and read him one of his favorite stories.

There was a long pause before she answered. “Your eyes. It’s there that I see the change.”

I lowered my head, my back still to her, and let my eyelids slide shut. What secrets did they reveal? Did anyone else see, or was it simply a sibling thing?

“You look sad, and I know you won’t admit it, but I can understand if you’re lonely.”

I scoffed, whipping around to stare at her. “I was far from lonely last night, and my son will be here any minute to brighten the shit of a morning you’re causing me. So no, I’m not lonely.”

“Fine, whatever,” she huffed exasperatedly. “I was trying to be honest, that’s all.”

My expression lifted, and I offered the slightest smile to appease her. “I apologize for your run-in this morning, but had you texted me that you were planning on stopping by, it could have been avoided.”

There. That was easy enough. Looking back over the paint bottles, I debated which colors to lay out for Oliver. He usually leaned toward cooler tones. “Now, tell me, what do you need?”