Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 95678 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95678 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
“I want this to be as easy on Pippa as possible,” I said, feeling my throat tighten. “I think it’s best if you handle it. You’ve been there for her all along, and you knew Adriana best.”
He opened his mouth to argue with me, but I cut him off. “Don’t. I’ve seen enough since coming back to know Adriana was different with you than how she was with me growing up. I don’t know why she was the way she was when I was younger, but it seems like maybe she’d finally come into her own in the past couple of years. That’s the Adriana you knew. I never knew her like that.”
One of West’s large, warm hands came up to cup my cheek. “I wish you had. Will you tell me why you never told her where you were all those years? Why you never contacted them?”
It felt strange to want to tell him the most shameful part of my past. For just a moment I wondered why I felt like confessing it to him. But then I laughed at myself. It was so obvious. As soon as I told him my secret shitty past, he’d know why I wasn’t relationship material. It would make my leaving that much easier.
“I was a prostitute.”
There was a beat of silence while I waited for the condemnation. Perfect Dr. Wilde from his perfect family wouldn’t be able to wrap his head around—
“And?”
My head snapped up to stare at him. “And… I slept with men for cash and food. Sometimes just for shelter and protection.”
I could see West’s jaw ticking and knew he was having trouble holding in the judgment.
“Even more reason to call home and ask for help,” he said slowly.
I laughed. “Yeah, right. ‘Hi, Mom? It’s me. Your fifteen-year-old son. I know you guys didn’t want to have a gay kid or a petty criminal for a son, but let me tell you what I’ve been up to lately. A few blow jobs, some solicitation busts. Oh, but don’t worry—there’s one cop who lets me suck him off in exchange for not taking me in if I’m lucky enough to get busted by him instead of the real hard-asses.’ West, if I thought I was an embarrassment to them before, can you even imagine how I felt once I learned what it was like for me on the streets?”
West’s jaw was doing more than ticking at this point, but he was doing his best to keep a neutral look on his face. I wasn’t fooled. He had to be disgusted. Who wouldn’t be?
His silence continued, so I threw up my hands. “See? Exactly. They probably would have reacted the same way. Silence. Disgust.”
I stood up, intent on finding my clothes and getting the hell out of there, but West’s strong hands clamped around my waist and he spun me to face him.
“I’m not saying anything because if I open my mouth I want to scream, Nico,” he admitted in a broken voice. “I can’t bear the thought of you alone on the streets having to do that to survive. I can’t bear it.”
West pulled me in close until I stood between his feet, his face pressing into my chest. My arms wrapped around his head and neck, and I threaded my fingers in his hair. Within seconds, I felt hot wet tears soak through the worn T-shirt I had on and I realized he was crying for me. West was crying. For me. It didn’t make any sense.
“Why are you crying?”
“You deserved better,” he croaked. “Every kid deserves better.”
I tried to push him away by his shoulders, but he held tight. “Don’t feel sorry for me, dammit. That’s not why I told you.” My voice came out thick and mean through my teeth.
I continued to struggle against him, wanting to get away as quickly as I could so I would be able to breathe again.
“Don’t,” he growled. “Don’t push me away for the millionth time, Nico. Just let me be here for you. I don’t think that’s too much to ask. And for fuck’s sake—I’m not asking.”
I was taken aback by his tone and managed to settle down out of sheer surprise.
“Jesus, finally,” he muttered, nuzzling back into my chest. “You’re like a fiery redhead but without the red.”
I snorted. “Doctor Hilarious, I presume?”
“Shut it. We’re having a moment here. Don’t ruin it.”
I ran my fingers through his thick blond waves and thought about how amazing it must be to have someone like West all the time. He was going to make some lucky bastard happy one day.
I took a moment to imagine what it would be like to be that person—to be the guy West chose to share his life with. I imagined long nights of feeling his hands on my skin, his lips on mine, his cock wedged so deep inside me that I felt full and complete. I imagined lazy Sunday afternoons watching football games on television, Friday nights eating over at Doc and Grandpa’s with all the crazy Wildes. Visiting the local park and pushing our children on the swings or taking them down to the marina and teaching them how to drive a boat. I imagined being able to walk through Hobie, through the world for that matter, proudly displayed on West Wilde’s arm.