Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 130102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 651(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 434(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 651(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 434(@300wpm)
But her loving that intensely didn’t surprise him. Not at fucking all.
He wanted that from her. He really fucking did. But he was mired in too much shit. And until he shook off some of that shit...
Unfortunately, he’d never be able to scrape it all off and that could end up being an issue.
But that was one more thing he couldn’t tell her so, instead, he shot her a smile.
“Beautiful, you’re a MILF, remember? And I don’t see your age, I see you.”
“While that’s sweet—”
“Ain’t sweet, it’s the truth.”
A soft tap on the door, and Josie’s voice coming through it, interrupted them. “Mom? Maddie asked me to bring this up.”
Shade reluctantly released Chelle’s hand so she could slip off the bed and go over to the door. She opened it only far enough for Josie to pass a small plate through.
“Thank you. I’m sure he’ll appreciate the gesture.”
“He okay?” her youngest asked.
“As good as he can be for now.”
“Can I visit him later?”
Chelle glanced over her shoulder at him. He nodded.
“Yes, later. I’ll let you know when. I’ll be down shortly to help clean up the kitchen.”
“We got it, Mom.”
Yeah, Chelle was raising her girls right. Hearing them interact with her always pulled at something deep inside him. Something he had missed for most of his life. He didn’t remember a lot about his mother, but he did know she loved him. Unfortunately, those few good memories hadn’t been enough to hang onto during the bad.
He only hoped his mom would have been with him like Chelle was with her girls. Though, imagining that made her being torn away from him even harder.
He was goddamn robbed.
He closed his eyes and just breathed, pushing down the fury and renewed drive for revenge beginning to bubble up from his gut.
No. Not now.
When the bed shifted, he opened his eyes just as Chelle was putting the plate on the tray next to him and saying, “Maddie made Oreo pie just for you.”
His blood ran cold.
Oreo pie.
He stared at the recognizable and still intact dark brown and white cookies that made up the outer edge of the slice. More crumbled Oreos topped what looked like a layer of chocolate pudding and whipped cream.
His stomach rolled.
“Chelle,” he barely managed to get out.
“What? You look green. Is it the meds? The pain?”
Oh fuck. “Grab me a can. Somethin’.”
“A can?”
“Gonna puke.” Jesus, she needed to hurry the fuck up.
She bolted from the bed into her bathroom and was back in a flash, shoving a shopping bag-lined trash can into his chest. Luckily, she was just in time.
With a groan, he leaned forward, jamming the can between his thighs. As everything he had eaten not even ten minutes earlier surged up, she rubbed his back and held his hair out of the way.
Just like a fucking mom probably would.
He kept puking until his stomach ached and felt hollow.
When he was done heaving, when there was nothing left in his gut, a wet washcloth appeared in front of his face. He wiped his mouth and muttered, “Musta been the meds.”
She pulled the can from between his legs and removed the bag. “I’ll get you some ginger ale to settle your stomach. And another bag. I’ll leave the can within reach, just in case.”
Just in case... The only thing making him sick to his stomach was...
“Chelle... Take the pie.” He kept his eyes averted from the plate, but he knew it was there. He could smell it, even over the puke. A smell he’d never forget. He swallowed the saliva flooding his mouth again. “Tell Maddie...”
She grabbed the plate and quickly dumped the piece of pie into the bag and showed him the clean plate. “I’ll tell her you loved it, but now need to rest.”
“Yeah.”
She left with the tray and the tied-off garbage bag in her hands.
This was exactly why he couldn’t promise forever.
He never knew what the fuck would happen next.
This time all it took was a goddamn slice of pie made with cookies that one of his owners used as a reward. When he did what he was told. When he didn’t fight. When that particular “daddy” thought Julian had been a good boy.
When his “uncles” and “daddies” used bribes like TV time, music, video games, and even treats like Oreos, he tried not to be good. He always chose to be bad.
And when others wanted him to fight, he always tried to seem willing instead.
They robbed him of his mother, he wanted to rob them of as much pleasure as he could.
So, fuck no, Julian wouldn’t do shit simply to watch TV. Or to play video games.
Or even eat a fucking Oreo cookie.
What they wanted, he didn’t.
All Julian wanted was his mother.
And to be free.
“Are you ready for your sponge bath?” Chelle teased as she entered her bedroom and closed the door behind her.