Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 75405 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75405 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
“If that happens, you’re taking me there and I’m meeting this girl, Dragon.”
“Mama—”
“Don’t hand me bullshit about club business and putting me in danger. If my boy—the boy I went through hours and hours of horrible labor for, is in Virginia, then I’m going to go to Virginia and not even the mighty Dragon West will stop me. You got it?”
I shake my head. “I was just going to say that if our boy decides to stay here, then it will be because Ford is no longer a threat and I’ll bring you here all you want.”
“Oh. Okay, then,” she grumbles.
I lay back on the bed, closing my eyes, my lips sliding into a smile.
“Are you in bed, Mama?”
“Dragon—”
“I want to hear you come.”
“God,” she says the word almost as a moan.
“Is my woman naked?”
I hear her breathe into the phone and my grin only intensifies.
“I can be,” she mumbles. “If you make it worth my while.”
Damn. I always did love a good challenge…
Chapter 9
Thomas
“Lyla, you should be lying down,” Ford mutters, clearly not wanting to be here. Then again, I don’t want to be either—at least not with him here.
We’re at Ford’s house and apparently Lyla cooked dinner—even though she should be resting. The original plan was to meet at Grunt’s, but Lyla said she didn’t feel like traveling.
“I’m fine, Dad. I’m having a baby, not dying of a disease. Besides, Jasmine helped,” she replies.
She’s not really looked at me much, although she’s been more than nice to my dad. I find myself even being jealous of him.
Christ, even admitting that sounds pathetic.
“If Jazz he-helped m-m-maybe we should ord-der pizza,” I respond. Jazz laughs and tosses a roll toward my head. I catch it and take a bite out of it.
“I’ll have you know that I’ve become a good cook. Daisy has even bragged on me.”
“Baby,” Grunt laughs.
“Well, she has. She thinks my mac and cheese is the best,” Jazz grumbles.
“It is,” Grunt insists.
“See?” Jazz says, sticking out her tongue.
“She microwaves it,” Grunt confides, and we all laugh, which is nice since the room is thick with tension.
“You’re sleeping on the couch tonight, big boy.” Jazz swats him playfully in the chest, and everyone can tell she’s joking.
Grunt captures her hands and gives her a quick kiss. They stare at each other, and I swear, it’s as if the rest of us fades away from them. They’re that absorbed in one another. My gaze moves to Lyla and she’s watching them closely, a ghost of a smile on her lips, her hand on her stomach, but it’s her eyes that get most of my attention. She’s sad. I know I’m the cause.
Maybe she feels my gaze on her. I’m not sure, but for whatever reason, she looks at me and I give her a tight smile. She nods, but looks down at her plate. Lyla won’t believe me, but she has no idea how much I wish I could go back and change things. Hell, I wish I could go back to a time before I had myself wrapped up in Gabby. If I could go back in time and just walk away from that bitch, not pay attention to her flirting or how she always went out of her way to make me feel like I was a man she wanted to be hers, then I would. Fuck, I’m starting to wonder if she ever felt that way, or if it was all in my head.
When I look at the woman who is carrying my child, I don’t see anyone but her and I haven’t for a long time. When we made love that night, I wasn’t imagining she was Gabby—though I doubt she would believe me. She’s just been Lyla to me for a long time, but I should have never let our relationship go past being friends. I couldn’t give her more, and I let her think I could. Hell, maybe I even wanted to. I’m left wondering what I’m going to do about it now. The past is over, and I have a baby coming with a woman that I care for. It’s also a woman that I’ve hurt. I don’t know how to make that right. I’m not sure there’s a way to make it right.
“You keep staring any harder, Thomas, and your eyes are liable to bulge out of your head,” Lyla mutters.
“He looks like he’s trying to shit himself,” Ford mumbles under his breath—but loud enough for me to hear.
“Man, I’m tired of your damn mouth. Do you talk just to hear your teeth rattle?” Dad snaps.
“Why don’t you come at me, old man? I’ll show you what teeth rattling feels like—or maybe not. You probably have false teeth.”
“You would know about rattling. Your brain must rattle constantly because it’s too damn empty,” Dad yells.