Total pages in book: 178
Estimated words: 170884 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 854(@200wpm)___ 684(@250wpm)___ 570(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 170884 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 854(@200wpm)___ 684(@250wpm)___ 570(@300wpm)
“I love you more, baby,” I told him through a sniffle.
A.J. slept with me that night, and as I held him close, breathing in his sweet apple-scented hair, I knew something had to be done.
Yes. Something was very wrong in our normally harmonious home.
And his name was Twitch.
Chapter Fourteen
Twitch
I kept my eyes on the house across the street. I hadn’t seen my son in days. Lexi wasn’t exactly handling my presence at the time being, so I stayed away. Since my return, she changed some, and I hated seeing her like this. No longer the fun, loving mother I’d come to watch from afar, she was now an anxious mess, her face strained, her eyes bleak, and knowing I was the cause was fucking with me.
So I held back, continuing my watch, keeping a distance. I didn’t know how long I would manage that, but I would hold off for as long as I could. My palms were sweating. I hated feeling out of control, always had, and everything that was happening right now was out of my control.
Angst coursed through me at the thought of being kept from my son.
How long would this go on?
For a solid week, I checked Lexi’s window at night, and when I found it locked, I left with a nothing but a sigh. All I wanted to do was talk to her, be close to her, and it was killing me to not force myself into her life, as I really wanted to. I could’ve snuck in if I really put my mind to it. I could’ve broken the latch, leaving her room forever open to me, but I needed her to want me. To show me she wanted me.
Yesterday morning, in the silence of my home, I heard Happy talking to his woman. He spoke to her a long while, apologizing profusely, taking responsibility for what he’d done, and after what seemed like hours, he walked out of my guest room with his bag.
I peered at him before turning back to stare out the open window. “Goin’?”
“Yeah,” he muttered, standing in the open doorway. “Talked to Nikki. She wants me home.”
“And Dave?” I knew how much he loved that dude.
Happy sighed, reaching up to rub at his bald head. “He might pop me in the mouth, but I don’t care. I’ll let it slide. Isn’t anything I don’t deserve anyways.”
Before we got into this mess, we knew there would be consequences. The price was small for what had been gained though. I’d do it all over again. I wondered if Happy would do the same.
Happy approached and I turned, holding my arm out to him. He gripped my forearm before we brought it in, slapping each other on the back. He didn’t say a word. All I managed was, “Owe ya.”
I didn’t need to say it. It was a given. But Happy had put up with me for the past five years, keeping me updated, sending me photos of my son, my woman, being my eyes and ears when I was a world away. He dealt with my temper, my rage, my depression, and he did it without complaint.
Yeah.
I owed him.
When he left, I continued to stare out the window, thinking about my son and how much I wanted him with me.
***
Lexi
The week went slowly, torturously so. I had that time to think about my reaction to Twitch wanting to spend time with our son. My mind wandered to places it shouldn’t have. I was still so understandably hurt, but as I sat back and looked at this situation in its entirety, I came to realize that by keeping Twitch from A.J., I wasn’t just hurting Twitch. I was hurting my son.
Which was why I was swallowing my pride and walking across the street.
Before I even reached the house, the front door opened and Twitch stepped outside, his brown eyes watchful, likely waiting for another attack, and he was right to expect it. I bit the inside of my cheek to stop myself from verbally lunging at him.
Dressed in navy fitted jeans, a tight black long-sleeved tee, and scuffed white Adidas originals, he ran a hand through his too-long hair. With the scruff on his jawline, he looked like a wet dream. No. That was too tame a statement. He looked like a supercharged wet dream. A wet dream on Ritalin.
Jesus.
His shoulders lifted slightly as he moved to put his hands into his jean pockets and when he spoke, his rough voice washed over me. “Hey, angel.”
Two words. That was all it took for my nipples to bead.
God. I was pathetic.
Averting his intense gaze, I uttered softly, “Can I come in? I need to talk to you.”
Without hesitation, he drawled, “Always welcome here.”
My heart ached in a way that made me want to cry. I wouldn’t. But I wanted to.