Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 75405 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75405 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
“Other than you, I don’t have that many enemies, old man. It could be a club in the state wanting to take over. There’s always someone out there wanting to be the new ruler. You know how that shit goes,” Ford mutters.
“When is your man meant to check in?”
“I’m sorry, did you have a stroke? When did this become about you? Do you think because your son knocked my daughter up that I have to check in with you now, Grandpa?”
“Don’t look now, Ford, but you’re going to be a grandpa, too,” Dad points out, which earns a snort.
“You two need to get and go back to the hotel. Grunt will follow you. I think until we find out who is after my club, it’d be best you get your asses back to Kentucky. The last thing I need is your blood in my territory. As much as I’m aching to go to war with you, I need to figure out who the asshole is that shot up my house tonight,” Ford orders.
“Your house? He sh-sh-shot and could have h-h-hit Lyla!” I growl, tired of this bullshit.
“I’m aware of that, asshole. She’s my daughter. Don’t act like you even give a damn. Or did you forget the reason you’re here in the first damn place?”
“I know why I’m here,” I respond, taking a breath in between each word and concentrating on saying the syllables.
“Then you’ll know why I want you to get the fuck out of my territory.”
“Lyla and my baby are here. I-I-I’m n-not going anywh-wh-where.”
“You act like you have a say in this, boy. You do not.”
“He might not, but I do, Daddy.”
We all jerk around to see Lyla standing by the door to her bedroom.
“Butterfly—”
“Thomas and I are going to try to make things work,” she says, shocking the fuck out of me.
I go to stand beside her. I keep my gaze on her as I walk. I want to question her, but I can’t speak right now. Whatever we have to say to one another should be in private.
“Make what things work? He used you in the place of another woman?” Ford snaps.
“I d-did not!” I growl, standing in front of Lyla as if she needs protecting. I know that’s not why I do it, though. I don’t want her to be reminded of Gabby. I want to block the words from reaching her. I know I can’t, but I want to, just the same.
“That’s not how I heard it,” Ford says crossing his arms at his chest.
“Dad, stop it. This is my life. I’m choosing to let Thomas stay here,” Lyla says, stepping out from behind me.
“Tell me why?”
“I’m still sorting through that,” Lyla admits.
“Damn it, Butterfly—”
“What I do know is Thomas is a good man. I told you that once before. He hurt me, but that didn’t mean he did it maliciously. He’s the kind of man who would protect his child with his life, just like he did tonight.”
“Lyla, honey…”
“Just like my dad always did for me. I need to try to work through everything with Thomas. I can’t do that if you keep alienating him, Dad. I need to try and get past things so he can have a part in my child’s life.”
“Our child,” I interject. Lyla looks at me, annoyed. There’s so much I want to say to her—including the fact that I noticed she didn’t say a part of her life. That realization left me feeling hollow. Everything is so screwed up. I wish to God that I could go back in time and fix things.
I can’t.
“Our child,” she allows, but casting me a hateful look, before turning her attention back to her father.
“If he hurts you again, I’ll—”
“Man, don’t say what you’re about to. That’s my boy. If he hurts Lyla, I’ll deal with him,” Dad says.
“What the fuck does that mean?” Ford asks.
“I like her, and somehow she managed to escape being a waste of space like her father,” Dad returns, his arms crossed at his chest and enjoying goading Ford way too much.
“Motherfucker—”
“Stop it!” I growl. “Will you both just stop? This is mine and Lyla’s life. We’ll decide what ha-happens. We n-need to work together to p-protect Lyla and the baby. We don’t n-need bullshit.”
I look at them both and wait. Something flickers across Dad’s face. I can’t waste time trying to figure out what it is. Ford gathers his hair in his hand and pulls it up, before letting it fall and looking at me. His face is full of hate, but that’s okay. He’ll have to get in line. I have a bunch of people that don’t like me right now—including myself.
“Seems your boy has some brains in there somewhere,” Ford says, reluctantly.
Dad grins and I swear I can see pride on his face. Something hits me and I know it’s big, but I squash it down for now.