“Loans?” I pinched my eyebrows together. “Why would she have to do that?”

Tate folded her lips between her teeth, thinking. “Well, her mother has withdrawn her support. K.C.—” She shook her head. “Juliet, I mean, will probably have to get loans to finish school.”

I scowled, turning away and wiping the sweat off my forehead. What a vindictive bitch. Her mother was almost as bad as my father.

No mothers. No fathers. I couldn’t help the grin that escaped, remembering her words.

“She’s fine, Jax,” Tate said behind me as I grabbed a towel to wipe off. “In fact, I’ve never seen her so centered. Like she knows who she is and what she wants now.”

“That’s great, Tate,” I bit out, throwing the towel down. “Glad to hear it. I’ve got a workout to finish.”

Awesome. I was coming apart without her, and she was ready to take on the world without me.

I felt Tate move behind me, and I didn’t look at her as she made her way to the door.

But she stopped before she left the room. “She got a tattoo as well.” Tate’s eyes were on me, her voice light and inquiring. “Angel wings on the back of her neck. Both of them broken,” she said. “Underneath, it reads ‘Only Ever You.’ ”

I closed my eyes.

I wasn’t sure when Tate left the room. All I remember is lowering myself into the chair and burying my head in my hands, feeling as if I were falling and would never hit the ground.

“I don’t like having to chase you down,” Ciaran said.

I let out an aggravated sigh, ignoring my employer’s scowl across the computer screen. Pulling out a half dozen flash drives, I dumped them on my desk in my room at Madoc’s house. When Jared’s mom—my mom now, too—had married Madoc’s dad, she made sure I had a room of my own here, even though this was technically Madoc and Fallon’s house now, and my own home was only a twenty-minute drive away.

Thankfully she hadn’t insisted on decorating it. Still, it was convenient when Madoc had parties. I had a place of my own off-limits to guests.

“Relax, old man,” I griped. “I haven’t taken a day off since you hired me.”

“And I pay you to be available.”

I stopped and shot him a dark look. “Are you whining?” I accused. “Jesus, what’s her name?”

“Shut it,” he shot back with his heavy Irish accent.

I rolled my eyes. “Fine. Here.” And I punched a few buttons, starting to send files as they loaded from my flash drives. “As soon as you get this shit, leave me alone for a few days, okay?”

“Why?” He sipped coffee, starting to look more relaxed now that he was getting what he wanted.

“Nothing major.” I didn’t want my employer to see that I was distracted and lose faith in me. The less information, the better. “I just need to focus on a side project.”

“What’s her name?”

I heard the laughter in his voice as he repeated my words, and I glowered at the screen.

“Her name,” I started, “is none of your fucking business, and she hates me, okay?”

“I doubt it.”

I loaded the last flash drive, dragging files into the Ciaran folder, and sent it. “I made love to her for the first time in a dirty carnival fun house and haven’t talked to her in five days. Trust me, she hates me.”

He shook his head. “Son, women are easy. They simply want everything. It’s not difficult.”

I let out a shaky laugh. “Yeah, not difficult.” And then I looked at him. “And what if she wants to know things I don’t want to tell her?”

“You’re asking the wrong question,” he said flatly. “The question is, would you rather keep your secrets or keep her?”

My eyes dropped, and I closed my mouth.

“If you want a woman,” he started, “then you have to start acting like a man.”

I nodded, understanding.

“And that means,” he continued, “you start looking like one, too.”

I narrowed my eyes, looking down at my workout pants and sneakers. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means grow up, kid.”

I stared at him wide-eyed, and when I spoke, my tone sounded like a warning. “You know? Plenty of girls like the way I look, old man.”

“Yeah. Girls,” he deadpanned. “They may like those T-shirts with all the writing on them, and those wallet chains and badass braids, but I bet you don’t feel like a real presence in those clothes, do you?”

I arched an eyebrow.

“Take more pride in yourself, Jaxon. You’ll be surprised how it transfers into your behavior. You’re going to be a father someday, for Christ’s sake.”

“What the fuck?”

“Probably,” he added. “Is that how you want to look at parent conferences?”

Whoa! What the hell? I let out a nervous laugh. “Yeah, this conversation escalated quickly. Damn.”

Why was my appearance suddenly under attack? I’d never gotten any complaints before. Jeans, black pants, nice T-shirts that fit great … My clothes didn’t attract attention, but they certainly weren’t Salvation Army, either.

Jesus, why was he making me feel as if I looked like a bum all of a sudden?

He cleared his throat. “My son-in-law is a bit of a Barbie.” He jerked his chin at me. “Have him take you shopping.”