Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 78760 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78760 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
He knew exactly what I was talking about.
“Yes and no,” he murmured. “Furniture is different. Some of the paint is different. But the majority of it isn’t. Looks like it did when it was still my parents’ house.”
My heart started to throb.
“What else happened?” I turned slightly on the couch to I could see him more clearly.
“My parents finally realized what had happened,” he sighed. “I kept coming home. Kept going back. Kept threatening the judge—your father—with harm.” He groaned and let his head fall back on the couch. “I want to punch myself for all the stupid shit I did and nearly ruining my life in the process. I’m just lucky that your father never pressed charges against me. That he only resorted to getting a restraining order instead of sending my stupid ass to jail.”
“I remember some of what had happened…”
The toilet paper that had been in our trees every weekend for weeks. The broken plastic forks in the ground that were nearly impossible to get up. The spray paint incident.
“I tried to apologize,” he murmured, eyes staring at the ceiling. “Sent letters after I got my shit together. I couldn’t very well visit him when I could get arrested for being within five hundred feet of him.”
“That’s why you stopped so far down the driveway that day you dropped me off…because you couldn’t get that close to him.”
“Right,” he murmured. “Well, the restraining order expired years ago, but I’ve kept my distance to respect him.”
“What would happen if my father were to come into the ER. How does that work if you’re there, working?” I questioned.
“When the restraining order was still active? Not a clue,” he admitted. “When I saw him in a store, I left. That’s what I was always told to do…something I follow even now.”
“What made you stop being that asshole you keep speaking of?” I finally worked up the courage to ask.
He smiled.
“Stone.”
My head tilted to the side.
“The officer who was killed?” I clarified. “The president of your MC?”
He grinned and nodded.
“Your father made Stone enforce the law, and Stone caught me being a dumbass,” his smile widened. “He helped me pull my head out of my ass and forced me to pretty much be his bitch.” His smile was wide and blinding as the memory played out in his head. “Worked my ass off for that man. Got my shit together. Finished school. Prospected. Got my patch. Then I went into the Marines.”
The happiness on his face as he talked about Stone was bittersweet and hurt my heart. I hated that he was no longer here, especially when it was clear what an impact he’d had on Tommy, if the way he was talking about him was anything to go by.
“I’ll talk to my dad.”
He placed his free hand that wasn’t holding Tallulah to his chest on my exposed thigh.
“Don’t.”
It was a short, sharp demand that had me jumping in surprise.
“Why not?” I stiffened.
“Because once we can make this official, I’ll talk to your dad. It has to be me who fixes this, and I’ll get there with him, Tally. I promise.”
I could see the sincerity in his eyes and knew he would do whatever it took.
This big, bad, tattooed biker who belonged to a motorcycle club was going to grovel to my father. The thing is… I wasn’t sure I wanted him to.
Chapter 20
Coffee—because fuck waking up. Fuck mornings. Fuck going to work. Fuck dealing with people.
-Tommy’s secret thoughts
Tommy
The phone rang, startling me from my sleep.
I turned, started to snatch the phone up, and realized it wasn’t my phone, but Tally’s.
We’d been asleep maybe three hours, because after our deep discussion on the couch, Tallulah had started to throw up again—and I’d decided that she’d needed to have a few tests run.
First, I wanted to make sure she wasn’t dehydrated. And second, I wanted to make sure there wasn’t something more serious wrong.
We’d taken her to my clinic, where I checked her ears and then swabbed for the flu and strep before deciding that what she had was a simple stomach bug.
I started her on some IV fluids—which, by the way, was the worst feeling ever, starting an IV on a little baby who just wanted you to hold her and didn’t understand why I was holding her down and forcing something sharp into her skin—she instantly began to bounce back to her normally happy self.
Once she was rehydrated by the IV fluids and after some nausea meds that calmed her stomach, she was finally able to sleep.
So were we.
Needless to say, having the phone ring at four o’clock in the morning did not put me into a good mood.
In fact, I was right pissed once I saw who it was.
“Hadley,” I murmured as I unplugged the phone and passed it over to Tally who was up on her elbow in the bed beside me.