Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 105709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
I can do this.
Phoebe pulls into an empty space. Before the car even stops, Olive throws open the door and launches herself out.
“Olive!” Jesus fucking Christ. “Wait!”
But she's already running. Straight toward Hella.
He's leaning against his bike near the entrance, cigarette between his lips, talking with Ripper. The moment he sees Olive, his entire body changes. The hardness melts. The coldness evaporates. He drops the cigarette and crouches down as she slams into him.
“Dad!”
Well, fuck. My girl isn’t subtle at all.
Silence rings out.
Hella catches her, lifting her into his arms with a wide smile.
“Hey, Rugrat.” His voice carries in the still air. “Missed you.”
“Missed you too.” She wraps her arms around his neck. “So, so, so much.”
I climb out of the car slowly. My legs feel like jelly, my mind not much better. Phoebe clucks her tongue as she rounds the car until we’re shoulder to shoulder.
“Olive, you can't run out of moving cars,” I call out, walking toward them. “That's dangerous.”
She barely glances at me. “Sorry, Mama. But I had to see Dad.”
Hella's eyes meet mine over Olive's shoulder.
Dad.
He doesn't correct her. Doesn't flinch. Doesn't put her down and explain that he's not her father.
He holds her tighter. “Did you ask your mama if it was okay to call me that?” he asks.
“Uh-huh. She said yes!” Little — “Good.” He kisses the top of her head. “Because I like it.”
My chest cracks open, and it needs to not do that while I’m here; it allows too many ghosts in.
Ripper approaches, grinning. “Look at you, Hux. All domesticated and shit.”
He flips him off.
“Uncle Ripper!” Olive twists in Hella's arms. “You said a bad word!”
“Your dad says worse,” Ripper shoots back, arms wrapping around me to kiss my head. “How you going, darlin’?”
I pat him softly. “Good. So far.”
Ripple chuckles, turning back to Hella and Olive.
Olive sasses. “Yeah, but Dad's allowed. He's a grown-up.”
Hella smirks. “Hear that, Rip? I'm allowed.”
I force myself to walk closer. I'm wearing my tightest pair of Levi's—the ones that hug every curve but hang loose at my waist—and a tight white spaghetti strap top that shows enough cleavage to be interesting. I spent two hours getting ready this morning. Hair, makeup, outfit. All for him.
He doesn't even look at me.
“Bachelor party's tonight,” Hella says, focused on Olive. “So I'm gonna spend the rest of the day with you. That cool?”
“So cool!” Olive squeals, head bobbing. “Can we go to the stream? And ride four-wheelers? And—”
He kisses her head as if he’d been dying to do it. “Whatever you want, Little One.”
“Beast's mother is watching all the kids at her place tonight,” Hella continues, finally glancing in my direction. His gaze skips over me as if I'm furniture. “She'll bring Olive back tomorrow morning for the wedding. Her place is on the property, a walk from mine.”
I smile, but it’s weak. “Okay.”
That's it. One sentence. That's all I get.
Ripper steps closer to me, his eyes dragging down my body. “Looking real good, Melissa. That fuckboy in Westbeach treating you right?”
I wait for it. The possessive growl. The warning look. The way Hella always reacts when another man looks at me.
Nothing.
He kisses Olive's head again and starts walking toward the clubhouse.
“See you tonight,” he calls over his shoulder.
Not to me. To Phoebe.
The knife in my chest twists deeper.
Ripper’s arm connects with mine. “Don't take it personal. He's been a miserable bastard since you left.”
“Doesn't look miserable to me.”
“That's because of the kid. Only thing that gets him to smile anymore.” He lights a cigarette. “But trust me, he's been drinking himself stupid every night. Beast had to pull him out of three fights last week alone.”
I turn away before he can see my face crack.
Phoebe links her arm through mine. “Come on. Could think of other things I could be doing than small talk with the local psychopath!”
“Love you too, Pheb’s!” Ripper calls out as he leaves.
“Where am I even staying?” I turn to Phoebe; the question comes out smaller than I wanted. “I assume Hella wants Olive with him, but I don't know—”
“You're staying with me.” Jada appears from nowhere, all ripped jeans and a Woodsman's tank top. “Already set up the guest room.”
Relief floods through me, but then I pause. He organized this before I got here, made sure I wasn’t with him. “You sure?”
“Positive. Besides, we're getting ready for Yana's bachelorette party together. Gonna be a whole thing.” She grins. “You ready to get fucked up?”
“Honestly?” I blink, thinking of Olive being safe with the rest of the kids at Beast’s mum’s. “Yeah. I really am.”
It’s like walking into a coffee shop that has a vanilla candle burning. Jada’s house has always felt like a home, even when I barely knew everyone.
She leads me upstairs to the same room I stayed in what feels like a lifetime ago.