Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 102335 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102335 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
He snorts through the phone. “I did. And Nona said that this weekend we can put up the Christmas decorations!”
My heart swells in my chest. “Buddy, it’s only November.”
“Annnd?” he asks, dragging out the word.
My smile deepens. “Okay. Then this weekend we will go Christmas shopping.”
“Okay! Good night, Mama!”
“Night, baby.” I hang up my phone and shut the screen off.
“A kid?” Wicked’s voice punches me right in the gut and I jump in shock, spinning around. Shadowed in the darkness of the carport, his outline becomes painfully obvious the harder I blink. A hoodie covering half of his face, he leans against a car, feet crossed at ankles and hands buried in pockets. “Never would have pegged you for the mothering type.”
My heart claws at my ribcage as my blood beats through my ears. “I guess others would think otherwise.” Turning my head over my shoulder, I find the girl he was with earlier near the bar, her arm around Jade. “Married?” He doesn’t answer, so I slowly bring my eyes back to his. I can’t see anything above his nose, and from here, the shadow and outline of his sharp cheekbones and pillowy lips is almost too annoying to see.
“If I said yes, what would you do?” he asks, and I don’t miss the dip in the corner of his mouth where he wants to smirk.
I take a step forward, running my hand over my shoulders, the adrenaline slowly wearing off. “I’d say that you’re braver than me.”
“Ruby?”
I don’t look back at him, keeping my eyes locked on the way the girl moves around Jade. Her arms frail around Jade’s body, her head tilting back to laugh, showing her straight teeth. She’s pretty, sure, but I expected more.
“Ruby!”
I snap, coming back to Wicked. “What?”
“Stop being a fucking idiot.”
“I’m not. I date them, apparently.” I shove my phone back into my handbag and turn back toward the clubhouse. I need to make my way back into the safe area with Jade and Poppy. Away from him and any questions he may ask. I don’t know why I ever kept Wolf from Wicked. I think a big part of me told myself that I did it because I didn’t know how to find him or thought he was dead, but I know that’s not true. Standing here today, with him right in front of me, I know that’s not true, but now it’s like the lie I told myself for years is quicksand and I can’t seem to get my feet out of it.
“Date who? The father to your kid?” he asks before I can take another step closer to the clubhouse. I lock eyes with Papa, who is sitting at the bar watching us from afar.
I turn to face him again. He’s closer now, his hoodie moved off his face and resting at his neck. “Boy or girl?” He takes another step.
I take one back. “Boy.”
“Hmmm.” His eyes narrow. The air shifts around us and my throat tightens, as if gaining any air is impossible. “He must be old? Old enough to have conversations about Christmas?”
I step back again, my heel crunching over the loose stones. I eat men for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, yet in his presence, I cower. Every time. It’s as though even after all of these years, it’s still him. Just him who has enough masculinity to soften me. “He’s very smart.”
Wicked takes another step, tilting his head to the side. I watch as his dark eyes dance over my skin before flying back up to my face. “How old?” Fear crawls over my skin.
I take three steps back, faster this time. The music becomes louder, and people who were standing outside have stopped talking. “How old, Ruby?” Oh shit. His voice is louder.
“Fuck.” I go to turn around to find Papa when Wicked’s hand is on my arm, pulling me back around until I crash into his chest.
“Yo!” Val moves forward with Tony, but my hand flies up to stop them both.
Peering up at Wicked’s face, I trace the sharp edges of his devilishly defined features. The sunken cheekbones, thick lashes and brows, and soft lips.
“Kids,” Papa says from behind. “You want to do this here?”
We both ignore him, just like we did when we were kids.
My eyes blaze onto his. “Four.”
His face falls as if all of the anger and suspicion he had evaporates from his features. “I fucking hate you.” He shoves me away roughly, taking heavy steps toward his bike.
“Wicked!” I snap, but he ignores me, picking up his helmet and firing up his bike. The loud engine rips through the air as he guns it out the driveway. “Fuck.” Turning back around, I find Papa. “He’s going to the home!”
“Shit!” Papa runs his hand through his hair, opening a phone that is in his pocket.