Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 130673 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 653(@200wpm)___ 523(@250wpm)___ 436(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130673 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 653(@200wpm)___ 523(@250wpm)___ 436(@300wpm)
“He noticed my wrist by himself. I didn’t tell him.” Why was I explaining myself to this prick?
“Yeah, well, he made a whole stink about it.”
“The fact that you left me for dead three years ago didn’t help, I’m sure,” I pointed out smartly.
Tucker fought an eye roll, seemingly eager to change the subject. “I told Rhyland I moved around after I left Maine.” He returned his attention to his locker, speaking with his back to me. He slipped his bomber jacket on, and then his JanSport. “I had a horrible fucking time, okay? I couldn’t go back to Staindrop because of Allison and her damn mess. Everybody judged me. I had to take random labor jobs everywhere I went. Australia. New Zealand. Japan. Working without a permit. I slept in hostels. My parents had to move to escape people’s prejudice. It’s not like I had fun.”
“Wow, I’m so sorry running away from your family was an inconvenience for you.” I put a hand to my chest and widened my eyes.
“That was always your issue, Dylan. You only think about yourself. Don’t care about anyone else’s misery,” he accused, his eyes narrowing into slits—or trying to through the swollen skin around them.
“Holy gaslighting, Batman.” I barked out a laugh. “You did not just make your Great Escape story about my selfishness.”
“I forgot how sarcastic you are.” He flattened his lips into a scowl. “Very unattractive.”
“Good.” I smiled brightly. “Only shit attracts flies.”
“I’m ready to see my daughter now.”
“Oh, it’s about your schedule, is it?” I couldn’t help but snap back. Kieran was right. I wasn’t ready to contemplate the idea of Tucker and Gravity in the same room. “I’ll let Gravity know. I’m sure she’ll understand why you were absent her”—I checked an imaginary watch—“entire fucking life.”
“I want to see my kid, Dylan.” He screwed a ball cap over his head, ducking his head down. It sounded like a threat, which I didn’t appreciate, but nothing about the words themselves seemed intimidating. It was his tone that didn’t sit right with me.
He pointed at me. “And tell your future husband to keep his distance, unless he wants to sit behind bars.”
The shift was long and busy but surprisingly rewarding. It felt good, doing something that extended beyond being a mother. My outfit proved to be a success in the tips department, but there were so many eyes on my ass I was half tempted to check if it had made it to Page Six’s blockbuster list.
When the clock hit midnight and I slid out of the bar, I got a phone call. Rhyland’s name stared back at me. I gulped in a breath and answered.
“What happened? Is she okay?”
“Jesus, relax.” He sounded tired and annoyed and fed up with our arrangement. We were only a few days in. “Your kid is fast asleep.” He didn’t call her by her name—still refused to fully accept that she was human—but at least he’d stopped referring her as “the child.” “I just knew you got off at midnight and wanted you to have someone to talk to on your way home.”
I deflated now I knew my child was okay. “It is literally six minutes away,” I protested.
“New York is unsafe.”
“Thanks to people like you,” I spluttered, trying to ignore the distinct feeling my heart was melting down into gooey, warm butter, settling between my legs, making me wet. Attentive Rhyland was a total panty dropper. “I saw Tucker’s face.”
“My condolences,” he drawled.
“Seriously, Rhy, what were you thinking?”
Brief silence hung in the air before he answered. “I owed it to Row. This has nothing to do with you. He’s been wanting to rearrange that man’s face for four years now, almost five.”
My buttery heart turned back into stone. Of course it was about my brother. Everything was.
“You could’ve gotten yourself into a lot of trouble.”
“He wouldn’t have told anyone,” Rhyland maintained.
“How are you so sure?”
“He knew he deserved it.”
I wasn’t sure Rhyland was correct on that one. Instead, I guessed Tucker didn’t want to start a war with a man like Rhy, who was connected to spine-chillingly ruthless billionaires with herds of lawyers at their disposal. Rhyland was definitely the nicest guy out of his crew, along with Kieran, but he also gave strong “don’t fuck with me” vibes.
“Did she have a good evening?” I changed the subject.
“She did.”
“Did she—”
“You know, Cosmos, we can have a conversation about something that isn’t your daughter.”
“I’m sure we can, but that would be pointless, because I want nothing to do with your ass,” I said in a singsong voice.
“Are you still a big Swiftie?” He ignored my attitude.
“I am,” I admitted begrudgingly. “You don’t outgrow Taylor Swift—you grow with her. That’s what the eras are all about.”
It was one of the things I loved about her so much. No album was the same. She evolved right along with her music. Aside from med school, my dream was to go to the Eras Tour.