Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 77715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
“He was looking for me?”
“Since he aged out, yes. He kept a social media page open just so you could reach out to him. But he didn’t have anything to go on. He couldn’t find you by your old name.”
“I got adopted,” she said, but the empty way she said it made me think that maybe that hadn’t been the joyful thing we liked to imagine adoption as. “They changed my name. Even my first name,” she said, shaking her head.
“What? You were, like, eleven or something, weren’t you?”
“Yeah. Kinda fucked up what people think they can do to kids just because we have little to no say in the matter.”
“What did they name you?”
“Matilda.”
“Seriously?” I asked, grimacing. I mean it was a nice enough name for some girls, but Demi did not look like a Matilda.
“I know,” she agreed. “I changed it back a couple years ago. The first name. I picked a whole new last name. Figured neither my bio parents or my adopted ones deserved to have me carry their names around.”
“Where have you been?” I asked. “How have you been?”
“A little bit of everywhere. And… better once I was on my own, I guess.”
Well, yeah, anything was better than being abused, I guess.
“How do you take your coffee?” I asked, filling a mug for her.
“Sugar. Milk. Whatever you have. I’m not picky. So… what is Dezi like?” she asked.
“Well, you are asking a very biased person. But I think your brother is the best man I’ve ever met. He’s… he’s super sweet and funny and laid-back, but also has a lot of intensity and is fiercely protective. Oh, and he is obsessed with food. Hence,” I said, opening up the fridge to get the creamer, and showing her how stocked to the gills it was. “Can I get you anything to go with your coffee?” I asked. “Dezi literally has every kind of snack cake you can imagine in the pantry.”
Was I pushing the food too much? I couldn’t help it. She was so thin.
“I’m okay with just the… is that him?” she asked, her whole body stiffening as she heard the rumble of a bike as it came down the street.
It could be any of the guys, of course. But I swear Dezi’s bike made a slightly different sound than everyone else’s.
“Yes,” I said, nodding. “Do you want to meet him outside?” I asked.
“I… no,” she said, looking suddenly very unsure of herself.
“Hey,” I said, reaching across the island to press my hand to hers for a second. “He’s going to be thrilled to see you.”
“He probably won’t even remember me,” Demi said, gaze focused on the countertop as the engine cut, as we heard him slamming the front door.
“Babe, I got something to show you,” he called, making me wonder if it was something fluffy, scaled, or feathered.
“Me too,” I said, watching as Demi’s gaze lifted as the footsteps got closer.
“Oh, yeah? What is…” he started, then cut off when his gaze cut from me over to his sister. “Demi,” he said immediately, and I swear the weight shrugged off the girl’s shoulders in a blink.
He was striding over toward her, pulling her off her chair, and crushing her to his chest.
What do I do? He mouthed to me when Demi’s breath caught on a sob right as she lost the fight with her own emotions.
To that, I shrugged and hugged my own chest tight.
He pulled her closer, telling her the things I said earlier. That he’d been looking for her. That he’d never forgotten her. That he wished he could have found her sooner.
And, well, I was going to go ahead and blame the pregnancy hormones for the tears that were suddenly pouring down my cheeks, making me reach for one of the baby cloths that I still had to wash, and wiping my face.
Just like that, both of our families were complete.
He had Demi.
I had my father.
We had the club and the girls.
Then, of course, each other.
And, soon enough, our next generation.
Who was absolutely kicking the ever-loving hell out of my bladder. So he was absolutely going to be just like his daddy.
I couldn’t think of anything better.
Theo - 12 years
“I blame you,” I said, letting out a deep sigh before taking a sip out of my coffee.
“I will admit, I see a bit of my influence here,” he agreed as we stood on the back porch of our house, watching our sons build their own fighting ring.
“A bit?” I asked, giving him a bemused smile.
“Hey, I’m not the only one with a history of violence, you know. If I recall correctly, you used to be known for slapping the shit out of random bar patrons.”
“That feels both forever away and just like yesterday,” I admitted, leaning my head into Dezi’s shoulder.
So much had changed in our lives since then.