Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 55608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
If it does blow over.
“Yeah, it’s possible.” Ethan sounds defeated. I don’t envy his job, trying to clean up the streets when the dirt stacks so quickly and so high it’s impossible to imagine life without it. I have to think about my woman and my son first.
No, not my woman. She’s my son’s ex. She’s the woman I could’ve easily fallen in love with. Hell, maybe I did the second I saw her, but now I have to be ice, just like I was when the dad nightmares would come. Like when I was in the cage or the ring, every instinct told me to run, but I had to fight. I had to be strong.
“I’ve got some numbers I can send you,” Ethan says. “Good, solid, honest guys.”
“Thank you,” I reply. “That means a lot. I’m sorry the world’s such a shitty place.”
“Yeah, me too.”
After hanging up, he texts me some phone numbers. I spend the rest of the evening liaising with a private security team. I wonder how Molly will feel if I tell her what I’m doing. It turns out that security can follow at a distance and only intervene if something bad happens.
I’m almost certain it won’t. They have no way of finding her. Even if they find or watch me, they won’t see me with Molly. They’re not going to lay a single goddamn finger on her. A dark part of me almost wishes I’d unloaded the gun in the bar and ended it there to remove the chance anybody would ever threaten my woman.
It’s late when I get to bed, but I feel restless. There’s this incomplete feeling inside of me. I should be lying here with Molly. I should be holding her tightly, whispering that everything will be okay. I should be protecting the future mother of my children. Instead, I set my alarm for five a.m. Ryan doesn’t know it yet, but he’s got an early start tomorrow.
When I finally sleep, it’s as if my alarm goes off one minute later. I wake feeling groggy. Last night seems like a dream. Then I sit up and walk quickly into the en-suite, splash cold water in my face, and march into Ryan’s room. I kick the door open, causing him to leap out of bed, yelling and putting his hands in the air.
“Sneakers, now!” I roar, clapping my hands together.
“Wh-what time is it?” he says.
I walk right up to him. I let him feel the anger bubbling up inside of me. There’s so much confused pain cutting right to my middle. This man bullied my woman. This man, my son, hurt my woman. If he’d hit her… Yet what he did was bad enough.
“Sneakers,” I growl. “Now.”
“Dad…”
“No,” I snap. “There’s no whining now. There aren’t any excuses left. Either you do exactly what I fucking tell you, or I swear to God, you’ll be on the street. Or you can fuck off to Spain and consider us quits. I love you, son. I’ll never stop loving you, but this is enough. You either get your sneakers or get out of my house.”
There are tears in his eyes. I almost soften, but that’s what led us here: years and years of softness, years and years of no discipline, years and years of never once being punched in the face or experiencing any suffering.
“I’ll get my sneakers,” he says quietly.
“Good. We’re running ten miles.”
“Ten…”
“Ten miles. I don’t care if your ankles snap. I don’t care if you vomit blood. It’s time to go.”
Soon, I’m driving slowly down the street, Ryan running awkwardly at the side of the road. There’s no pleasure in this for me. If he weren’t my son, I’d enjoy it. I’d enjoy making the prick who hurt my woman suffer. Now, all I feel is numb and focused. This is what I have to do. This is the man I have to be. Cold, detached, not thinking about myself, what I want, or who I want. That’s part of the issue right there. I don’t want her. I need her.
“D-Dad.” Ryan gasps, looking over at me as he stumbles forward, taking big, heaving breaths. “How far?”
“Two miles,” I tell him. “Keep running.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Molly
I wake to somebody knocking on my door. I try to bury deeper into the dream. I was nuzzled into Duke’s back, my arm wrapped around him, my hand resting against his hard abs as he breathed softly. None of the nastiness last night happened. No revelations. Nothing about Ryan or his dad.
“Molly?” It’s Rachael. “Hellloooo?”
I stand, rubbing sleep from my eyes, then walk across the room. There’s this buzzing at my core, a general hum of anxiety as if my instincts still expect an armed man to appear and force me to go with him suddenly. Rachael is beaming at me when I open the door, still wearing her clothes from last night, her mascara streaked.