Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 87913 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87913 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
“You okay?” he asks quietly.
“Yeah.” My pulse skips a beat when he walks up and slides my hair off my shoulder, his fingers skimming my neck.
“Tucker asked me to come get his girl.”
“Oh.” My heart seems to stop. Actually, my entire world seems to stop when he carefully takes Jenny from my arms and rests her tiny body against his big, wide chest.
“Have you eaten anything?”
“Umm…” I try to find the words, but it’s like my brain has shut down, seeing him with a bundle of soft pink in his ultra-masculine arms.
“We’ll make sure she eats now,” Willow tells him, then asks, “Will you tell Clay he can come get the burger patties when the grill’s hot?”
“Sure.” He smiles at her, then looks down at me and touches his fingers to my jaw before walking away.
“Are you okay?” Miranda asks, and I look over at where she’s standing in the kitchen, cutting up tomatoes. Emma is next to her, trying and failing to hide her smile, and Willow is doing the same.
“Yep, great. Totally great.”
“It’s good that you’re totally great.” Emma laughs, and I drag my teeth over my bottom lip to keep from laughing along with her.
Stuffed full and completely exhausted, despite my nap earlier today, I try to avoid leaning into Dayton as the elevator takes us down to his floor a few hours later.
It was a good night, with great food and even better company, and even though I just met everyone, I never once felt out of place or awkward. If there was a conversation going on around me, I was always included, and when the couples all got back together when it was time to eat, Dayton sat close to me, so I didn’t feel like the odd man out, which was sweet.
“I really like your family,” I tell him with a yawn as the doors open, and we step off the elevator.
“They like you too.” He lets us into his place, and PJ runs over and jumps up on the couch to lie down. He might be more tired than I am after playing with the kids, Skye, and Dolly, all evening—plus running free in their backyard, which might be as cool as the playroom and bar that Clay and Willow have inside their place.
“Can I ask you something?” I kick off my sandals and follow him to the couch.
“Sure.”
“I know you mentioned that you grew up in foster care...”
“They aren’t my biological brothers,” he answers my question without me having to find a way to ask. “We all ended up in the same foster family and grew up together.”
“How old were you?”
“Thirteen.”
Thirteen?
My chest gets tight. At thirteen, I was having sleepovers with friends and arguing with my parents about stupid things like my bedtime and how much TV I could watch. I can’t imagine getting removed from my family and having to live with people I didn’t know, especially at that age.
“That’s pretty young,” I say quietly.
“It is, but it isn’t. Just a few more years, and I would have been considered an adult.”
“Then you could have lived on your own?” I can understand why he would look at it like that.
“No.” His expression fills with something dark. “A few more years, and I could have been charged as an adult for murder.”
I feel like I’ve been slapped.
Wrapping my arms around my middle, I whisper, “I don’t understand.”
“My father was a drug addict and an alcoholic. Most of the time, he’d just get high or drunk and pass out, but there were times when he’d fly into a rage for whatever reason. One night, he spiraled, and by the time I woke up and realized what was going on, it was too late.” He looks across the room with his jaw tight.
“What happened?” The question is out before I can think better of asking—not only for his sake, but also to question if I really want to know the answer.
“He lost it. I’m not sure what set him off because I walked in when Mom was already bleeding on the kitchen floor. When he realized I was there, he turned on me. But I was thirteen, and I’d grown a lot that summer. And he was a mess from all the drugs and the drinking.” He sighs. “To this day, I don’t remember what happened. I’m not sure if I blacked out, or if it’s just something my mind blocked, but when I finally came to, he was on the floor next to Mom.”
My mouth fills with saliva, and I try to swallow the bile I feel crawling up the back of my throat, as the loop of what he just said plays over and over in my head.
When he realized I was there, he turned on me. But I was thirteen, and I’d grown a lot that summer. And he was a mess from all the drugs and the drinking. To this day, I don’t remember what happened. I’m not sure if I blacked out, or if it’s just something my mind blocked, but when I finally came to, he was on the floor next to Mom.