Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 124451 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 622(@200wpm)___ 498(@250wpm)___ 415(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124451 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 622(@200wpm)___ 498(@250wpm)___ 415(@300wpm)
“Fuck bro, I could have done without that image in my head,” I mutter, hating how fucking right he is, but Logan knows better. He’s asking for trouble. The idiot needs a reality check.
Riley sits up and takes a quick drink of water as I walk around the side of the bench press, adjusting the weights for the next round. We get back into position, and just as Riley’s hand curls around the bar, the sound of my phone cuts through the silence. “Hold up,” I say, fishing my phone out of my pocket and seeing an incoming call from my father.
“What the fuck?” I murmur, staring at it as it rings, unsure if I can be fucked getting into some bullshit argument with the bastard today, though having said that, I sure as fuck need some answers from him.
“Who is it?” Riley questions, hearing the bite in my tone.
My gaze flashes up to him, letting him see the pure irritation in my stare. “My dad.”
“Huh,” he grunts, just as confused as I am. “What the fuck does he want?”
“How the hell am I supposed to know?”
Riley gives me a pointed stare. “Here’s an idea,” he says mockingly. “Maybe answer the fucking thing and find out.”
Rolling my eyes, I let out a heavy sigh and hit accept before bringing the phone to my ear. “What did I do to deserve this call?” I say, letting out a heavy sigh.
“Helloooooow,” a child booms through the phone, confusing the absolute shit out of me.
My eyes go wide as I pull away from the phone, glancing at the screen and double-checking I haven’t taken a few too many hits to the head during football. It definitely says Dad across the screen, and I doubt he got a new number. He has too many business associates to deal with the hassle that comes from changing numbers. “Umm, hi,” I say awkwardly, my brows furrowed, putting the phone back to my ear as Riley sits up and watches me, picking up on the hesitation in my tone. “Who is this?”
The little girl laughs and it only confuses me more. “It’s me, silly.”
The fuck? Who the hell is me?
“Okay,” I say, trying to figure out why some random kid would have my father’s phone, while also trying to figure out if I care enough to try and guide her back to wherever she stole it from. “Where’d you get this phone?”
“Dada’s pocket,” the little girl says with a cheeky giggle, knowing she’s probably done something she wasn’t supposed to do, while unintentionally dropping a lead weight right onto my chest. “Wash your name?”
My gaze shifts back to Riley as a daunting feeling begins growing deep in my gut and spreading through my veins, plaguing me with unease. “I’m Tanner,” I tell her, swallowing hard, a sharp edge to my tone. “Tanner Morgan.”
She laughs again, only this time it’s so high-pitched and squeaky I have to pull the phone away from my ear to keep it from bursting my eardrum. “That’s wike my name,” she says, her excitement knowing no bounds. “We da same.”
“Are we?” I question, Riley now watching me back, his eyes narrowed to slits, having no fucking idea what’s going on, but that would make two of us. I could have sworn she said this was her dada’s phone. “What’s your name?”
“Roni,” she says so confidently. “Roni Morgan.”
Morgan.
Fuck.
My mouth goes dry as my stomach clenches, threatening to throw up the chicken kebab I’m now regretting. “Morgan, huh?” I ask, hoping like fuck this is some twisted coincidence and that my father isn’t out there somewhere with another fucking kid. “How old are you, Roni?”
“Ummm,” she pauses, really thinking about it. “Umm, fr … free.”
“Three?” I question. “You’re three?”
“Uh-huh.”
Riley stands and steps closer to me, staring at me with the oddest concern, a look I’ve only seen from him out on the football field after I take a nasty hit. “Who the fuck are you talking to?”
I shake my head, not wanting to miss a damn thing this little girl says, only the sound of a screaming baby in the background has me on edge, my hands fucking shaking, but with what? Rage? Confusion? Betrayal? I don’t fucking know. “Who’s that baby, Roni?” I ask, putting the phone on speaker, knowing Riley won’t stop badgering me until he gets an answer, no matter if I’m in the middle of a conversation or not. “Is that your brother?”
“Uh-huh,” she says, sounding almost distracted. “I have two of them. They’re twinnies.”
Riley’s eyes widen, putting the pieces together with the little bits of information he’s heard from the one-sided conversation. His gaze snaps back to mine, his jaw hanging open as he slowly shakes his head, the thoughts going through his mind mirroring the ones in mine.
“Twins, huh?” I breathe, my voice breaking.