However, an hour later, the girls were happily zooming back and forth on the wide sidewalk in front of the house. They’d gotten the hang of riding with training wheels fast and were utterly delighted with the bikes. He twisted his back, trying to stretch as he ran alongside Chloe. See? He was even getting a workout too. This was the best idea he’d had all weekend—
“What is going on here?” Apollo stormed toward them, dark eyes spitting sparks and his mouth a thin line of pure fury.
“We’re riding!” Chloe called, seemingly impervious to whatever bee was up Apollo’s ass.
“Dylan showed us,” Sophia added, pulling to a stop right in front of Apollo by the driveway.
“Oh, he did?” Apollo’s voice was ominous.
“What’s wrong, Baba?” Chloe’s voice got smaller as she too came closer to Apollo.
“Nothing’s wrong.” The tension rolling off Apollo like an angry sea called him a liar. “Take your sister and go into the house and put on a video.”
“But, Baba—”
“Now.” Apollo’s voice was barely level and both girls sped into the garage.
“What’s wrong?” Dylan honestly had no clue. Maybe something more had gone wrong with Apollo’s job. Maybe—
“Not here.” Apollo wasn’t meeting his eyes as he jerked his hand in the direction of the garage. “Not in front of the neighbors.”
Okay, so this was definitely about Dylan and he was genuinely baffled as to what the issue was. He followed Apollo into the garage. “What’s up?” He reached for Apollo’s arm, trying to soothe him, but Apollo jerked away.
“How could you? What were you thinking? Bikes?” Apollo sputtered.
“You’re mad because I let them ride the bikes?” Dylan spoke slowly, trying to figure out where he’d gone wrong here. “I thought about texting, but I didn’t want to bug you—”
“How about not doing it at all? You had no right, no right at all—”
“Hey now.” Dylan was trying not to get mad, but something in Apollo’s tone had the hair on the back of his neck prickling. “No right? That’s a bit harsh. You wanted to be the one to teach them? I can get that, and I’m sorry—”
“No, I didn’t want to be the one to teach them. It’s dangerous. I should have donated the stupid things a long time ago. And they certainly weren’t ready now for them.”
“Apollo. Come on, man. You’ve had a horrific three days, I’m sure. But these are little kid bikes. They’re almost too big for them actually. It’s good they got some use before they need the next size up. Did you see how happy they were?”
“That’s not the point.”
“Sure it is.” Dylan tried again to reach for Apollo, wanting to do something to calm the man down, but he paced away. Okay, fine. Be that way. Dylan’s voice took on a harsher edge. “Why’d you even buy the things if you hate the idea so much?”
“I didn’t.” Apollo’s voice was pure anguish. “Neal did. He got them when the girls were still babies. He was so damn excited for them to learn, for them to be able to ride with him some day.”
“Oh.” Dylan was starting to understand, and tried to make his anger at Apollo’s tone back up. “But it’s a good thing for them to learn. It’s like the memory books. A way for them to connect to Neal—”
“What? So they can die like him?”
“Neal died on a bike?” Dylan racked his mind, trying to remember what he’d heard two years ago. He’d thought his mother had said car accident.
“Yes.” Apollo’s voice suggested that Dylan should have known this. “He was sideswiped by a car on University. He thought it was fun too, riding around the city, never listening to me about the dangers.”
“I’m so sorry. So sorry. I had no idea—”
Apollo made a scoffing noise that suggested that Dylan might as well be apologizing to the tool bench.
“You know maybe if you ever talked about him, I would have known. But you don’t, so how was I supposed to know this was a huge phobia for you?”
“It’s not a phobia. It’s common sense. All I’ve ever wanted was to keep the girls safe.”
“I know.” Dylan ignored Apollo’s denial of it being a phobia because it was clear the guy wasn’t going to listen to reason here. “But you can’t roll them in bubble wrap, just because you’re afraid—”
“I’m not afraid. I’m angry because I expect more from their babysitters—”
“Whoa. Whoa.” Dylan had been trying to keep his temper, but Apollo had crossed a line that had Dylan’s face heating and his hands clenching. “Babysitter? Is that really all I am here?”
“Right now? In this situation? Yes.” Apollo might as well have ripped out Dylan’s heart and spat on it. “You’re the person I trusted to exercise good judgment and keep them safe.”
“Really? You’re going to treat me like some thirteen-year-old neighbor boy you hired to watch the kids for a few hours? Is that really what you want to do here?”