What a fucking mess.  I should have known that, the second I got my head out of my ass and allowed myself to believe a little in what I could have, she’d snap.  She gives me everything I have been working to get since I started foolishly pushing her away.

The second she finished reaming my ass, that flickering flame of hope burst into an inferno.

She’s right; I hid behind playing some twisted matchmaker.  Fixing my friends around me, all the while falling deeper into myself.  I used their issues to distract them from me.  I used each and every one of them to keep them out.

“Uh, where is your car, brother?” Greg snickers from behind me.

“Looks like he was too busy being a giant ass and it got swiped right from under him,” Asher laughs.

“Hilarious,” I say, not turning from where I’m looking at the space where my Charger should be parked.  My lips twitch at the thought of my sweet little Emmy stealing my car.

“That’s what you get for pissing her off,” Axel laughs.

I shrug my shoulder, not willing to get into this with them.  It really shouldn’t matter; all but Asher have seen me at my worst, so this is a walk in the park for them.

“Just out of curiosity, is this when we all take the advice you’ve been giving us for years now and give it back?  Because hey, I’m not a chick, so I’m not really sure how these little special moments are supposed to go, but I’m willing to wing it.”

They all laugh when Beck chimes in.  I turn and take in the four men standing in front of me, meeting each of their eyes to figure out what I’m supposed to say.

“Maddox Locke?” a little voice calls from behind the guys.

“Yeah, C-Man?”  I should have known that Cohen, Greg and Melissa’s son, would find us out here.  He’s been one of the guys ever since he went through some crazy shit a few years ago.

“I thought you were gonna bring Aunt Emmy home forever and ever.”

“Leave it to the kid to say what we’re all thinking.”

I don’t know who said it; I’m too busy looking at Cohen, his expressive, brown eyes locked with mine.

“You’re a big, brave superhero, Maddox Locke.  I know it because you helped me bring my mommy back.  You told me I needed to be brave and strong and show her my love.  That’s all you have to do.  When Mommy is mad at Daddy, he just tickles her until they start making funny noises.”  He puts his small, balled-up fist on his hips and gives Greg as hard a look as he can when he starts choking on his laughter.  “I bet if you smiled real big like that she would like that.  You don’t smile a lot, Maddox Locke.”

I clear my throat and look up at the guys for some help.  They all seem to be just as shocked with how much the little dude takes in from all of us.

“Yeah, C-Man, I think you’re right.  I might even try that smiling stuff you’re talking about.”

“Woohoo!” he yells, spinning on his small feet and slapping my body with his cape that is always tied around his neck.  “Mommy!  Aunt Dee!  He said I was right and he’s gonna smile!” he screams, running back in the house.

I lock eyes with the guys, each of us struggling to hold it in, before we all burst out laughing.  It feels so foreign to me that I have to wonder, is this what happiness feels like?

“You want me to give you a lift?  Chelcie can handle things before I get back,” Asher asks when the others go back inside.

“Yeah, brother.  I’d like that.”

He smiles, gives me a nod, and runs inside to get the keys to his Jeep.

The ride back to the apartment is pretty quiet.  I know it’s not going to last long; Asher isn’t exactly a silent thinker.  Sometimes, I swear the wheels can be heard clanking around in his head before he even gets his words out.  I guess part of the way he and Coop grew up taught him to pick his words carefully, and I can respect that, so I give him the time he needs.

Well, at least I try to give him the time he needs—it isn’t like I live hours away.

“Just spit it out, Asher.  I know you have something to say, so you might as well get it out before we hit the apartment complex, because the second you roll up there, I’m out.”

“Right,” he starts.  “So…that picture I found?”

“That’s all you want to ask me?  About a picture you found weeks ago in a forgotten box deep in my closet?” I clarify.

“Well, I was just wondering if your nightmare—you know you called that picture that—had gotten better.”