Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 121654 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 608(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121654 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 608(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
It was still too raw to discuss. Or at least, that was what I told myself because it was more comfortable that way. I didn’t ever want to know the gory details of what happened to Birdie while I was in juvie. That was probably selfish of me, but I didn’t think my brain could actually handle it. But if there were ever a day that she came to me and told me she wanted to discuss it, I would have done it. For her.
“We were having sex,” I said. “It happened later.”
She was quiet for a while, staring out the window while I drove with an iron grip on the steering wheel. When she finally did speak again, her voice was softer. “You know I’ll help you. We can get a place together, and I’ll learn how to take care of babies. It’s going to be all right.”
I shook my head. “Lucian’s going to help me.”
I wanted to believe what I was telling her, but I didn’t believe it myself, and I just hoped Birdie didn’t sense it.
“Please don’t tell me you’ve fallen for him, Gypsy,” she said.
I shot her a defensive look and shrugged my shoulders. “We have a contract, remember? Two years.”
“This isn’t about the contract,” she argued. “I can see it on your face when you look at him. Have you forgotten that this is the same guy who’s blackmailing you? Have you forgotten that he’s a piece of shit attorney who—”
“Don’t say that about him,” I snarled.
Birdie looked at me, eyes wide, and I immediately felt guilty. I’d never yelled at her before. But my limbs were shaking, and now was not the time to have this conversation. I wished she would see that.
“You don’t know the kind of work he does,” I explained. “Nobody does. His cases are more complicated than they sound.”
“Have you considered that maybe you don’t really know him?” Birdie replied. “What if he doesn’t even want kids?”
Her words hit closer to home than she could ever know, and I had to rein in my patience before I answered. “Look, it doesn’t matter, B. You don’t need to concern yourself with this. Lucian and I will talk about it when I’m ready.”
Birdie pursed her lips. “Fine. I guess I’m just chopped liver now, huh?”
I pulled the car into the driveway and turned off the ignition. “Is that what this is about? You think I’m going to forget about you?”
“No,” she shot back. “It’s about the fact that you always treat me like I’m a child who’s never going to grow up. Like I have no clue what I’m talking about.”
I opened my mouth to reply, but she held up her hand. “I get that I’ve given you plenty of reason to come to that conclusion. But while you’ve been playing house with Lucian, I’ve been doing just fine, haven’t I?”
“I don’t know,” I answered sourly. “Have you?”
“See, that’s what I’m talking about,” Birdie huffed. “You always believe that I’m up to something I shouldn’t be.”
“That’s because you are!” I shouted.
We both looked away, and several minutes of tense silence followed. Birdie, as always, was the first to crack.
“I know I’m an asshole for not coming to visit you sooner,” she said. “But honestly, I was scared. I thought that if I saw him hurting you, I would fly off the handle and do something crazy. And I didn’t want to disappoint you like that again.”
She looked down at her hands, and I swallowed back a decade’s worth of repressed emotions. “You didn’t disappoint me, B. You saved us when I couldn’t.”
She didn’t acknowledge the sentiment. “I’m not jealous of him either. I just don’t want to see you get hurt. Maybe you don’t always see it, but I am looking out for you too.”
I gave her a watery smile. “Of course, I see it. You always have. We look out for each other.”
The anger in her eyes dissolved and gave way to worry. “Then trust me when I say that you can’t fall for this guy. No matter what.”
She was so serious it gave me pause since Birdie was rarely ever serious. But I knew I couldn’t tell her what she wanted to hear.
It was too late.
I just hadn’t admitted it to myself before then.
“WHEN ARE YOU GOING TO tell him?” Birdie asked for the third time this week.
I finished loading the dishwasher and pressed the power button, busying myself with cleaning the counter. Birdie had been concocting all sorts of so-called meals, which mostly consisted of ice cream and peanut butter sandwiches, and she’d left a mess everywhere.
“I don’t know,” I said. “He’s got a lot going on right now. The trial is starting in three days. He can’t have this heaped on top of him with the pressures he’s already dealing with.”