Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 36506 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 183(@200wpm)___ 146(@250wpm)___ 122(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 36506 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 183(@200wpm)___ 146(@250wpm)___ 122(@300wpm)
“Hey,” I say in greeting as I hop in the truck.
He stares straight ahead, jaw muscle ticking. “Hey.”
Okay.
Something weird is happening right now.
“Do you hate me?”
I guess we’re not going to ignore last night. “What? No. It was my fault.”
His head whips my way, and he bristles with anger. “Not. Your. Fault.”
Why is he being so intense?
“I just,” I mutter, shifting uncomfortably in my seat. “I just didn’t expect you to walk in, uh, while I was doing…you know. I’m sorry about that.”
He blinks in confusion and then winces. “Ah. I was actually talking about what happened between me and your mother.”
Now it’s my turn to be confused. I missed a few calls from Mom and some texts, but I figured she was still trying to apologize for missing her birthday meal. Since I’m still hurt about it, I wasn’t keen on reading or hearing what she had to say.
“What happened?” I croak out.
Guilt shines in his eyes and he rubs at his tattooed hand. “I, uh, things are changing around here.”
Wait.
Did they make up?
Are they getting married?
Bile burns my throat. I wonder if Ava and Quinn will think less of me if I barf on their driveway.
“Just go,” I hiss, waving at him. “We can discuss this at home.”
He doesn’t move for a beat and then sighs heavily in resignation. We’re both quiet as we head home.
Surely, they’re not patching things up.
Not after the charged moment last night in the kitchen and then afterward in my bedroom.
Right?
I gnaw on my fingernail, too nervous to check my messages from Mom. I can almost imagine her leaving me sing-song voicemails about how we’ll go wedding dress shopping together. The thought of watching her walk down the aisle to be with a man she doesn’t truly love makes me sick.
Maybe I should have eaten something when the kids ate earlier.
A headache pulses at my temples.
As soon as we park at the house, I jump from the vehicle and hurry inside. I rush up the stairs, eager to hide out in my room. Once inside, I note the bed has been made and all the dirty clothes have been washed and folded and are still sitting in a laundry basket.
Reid’s presence looms behind me as he enters my bedroom.
“You washed my things,” I mutter. “Guess that’s what dads do, huh?”
I twist around in time to see him flinch at my words. His cheeks are red and eyes shine with guilt.
“Em,” he utters, not meeting my stare. “Can we talk about what happened?”
Tears sting my eyes, and I hate that I’m about to cry over this. This is what I get for crushing over an older man. Not just any older man, but the one sleeping with my mother. Unbelievably stupid and reckless. My heart is crushed.
“Hey,” he murmurs, cradling my cheeks in his palms. “Don’t cry, pretty girl. Please don’t cry.”
Despite his pleas, tears streak down my cheeks. He uses his thumbs to swipe them away. My eyes flutter closed as his lips press to my forehead. I sink against him, releasing a sob and more tears.
“I don’t know what she said about me,” he chokes out, “but it’s not true. You know I would do anything for you. You’re always welcome here. You don’t have to leave, Em.”
It takes a second for his words to catch up in my mind. I pull away from him, frowning. “What?”
“I’m sure your mom blew up your phone about our fight.” He shakes his head in frustration. “It got ugly.”
“You’re not getting married?”
It’s his turn to be stupefied. “To your mom?”
The utter disgust in his voice sends waves of euphoria traveling through me.
“Em, baby, listen,” he rumbles. “We broke it off. Officially. Your mom took all her shit and left.”
He called me baby.
I slide my arms around his neck and then stand on my toes to reach his mouth. Before I can chicken out, I press my lips to his. He opens his mouth, most likely to protest, and I seize the opportunity. My tongue swipes over his and we both groan.
A massive palm grabs my ass cheek and squeezes to the point of pain.
It’s rough and feral and I need more of it.
My legs hook around his waist, and I deepen our kiss. A moan escapes me when his hand squeezes me again, this time fingers sliding down the ass crack of my jeans.
“Wait,” he hisses, pulling away. “Stop. We can’t do this.”
“Why not?” I scowl at him.
“Because.” He plucks me off of him and tosses me onto my made bed. “She accused me of some shit, and I don’t want her to be right.”
“Reid…”
His hungry gaze rakes over me and he shakes his head. “Please. Let me get my head together. We can discuss this later.”
With those words, he stalks out of my room, slamming the door shut after him.