Meant for Her (Meant For #2) Read Online Natasha Madison

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Forbidden, Sports Tags Authors: Series: Meant For Series by Natasha Madison
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Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 95393 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
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“Pays me a visit?” I try to joke about it. “You’ve been hanging around too much with Uncle Matthew if you are starting to talk to me like you know people who can pay me a visit.” Even that joke makes him laugh.

“I actually do know people.” His laughter is loud now. “And one of those is your uncle. So you decide, Christopher, what is it going to be?”

“Fine.” I sigh. “I’ll call him.”

“Good. I’ll let you go so you can get on with it.” I’m about to hang up on him. “Oh, and if you think you said that just so I would get off your back, you’re wrong. I’m also going to call him.” I don’t have a chance to hang up on him because he hangs up on me.

“Fuck,” I grumble, getting out of my truck with my phone in my hand and jogging up the five stairs in the garage that lead to the mudroom. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

I walk into the kitchen and head straight to my living room. The room with the ninety-eight-inch television mounted on the bare white wall where I spend most of my time.

I know I have to call my uncle, but before I call him, I pull up Koda’s text thread.

Me: Hey, just checking to make sure everything is okay with the girls and to see if you guys need anything.

I hit send as I fall into the couch before I pull up my uncle’s name and then press the phone button. “Please don’t answer,” I mumble, as I move my leg up and down with nerves. “Please don’t answer.”

“Well, look who it is,” my uncle Viktor says instead of saying hello. “Was wondering when I was going to hear from you.”

“My father thinks I should talk to you.” I don’t beat around the bush because in a family like ours, he’s probably already spoken to my father.

“So you don’t think you should talk to me, but your father does.” His voice is rich and warm. “How are you doing?”

“Fine,” I cut out right away.

“I don’t know how you can be fine.” His words shock me. “You lost one of your best friends unexpectedly.” My stomach sinks. “I don’t know about you, but I would not be fine.” He doesn’t give me a chance to say anything. “Fuck, I would be beside myself with grief.”

“What difference does it make?” I put my head back on the couch and slouch down, looking at the white ceiling. “What fucking difference does it matter if I am beside myself with grief? Who the fuck cares? I’m not the one people need to be worrying about. People should be worrying about his wife and his two girls.” My voice goes higher and higher. “That’s who people should be worried about.”

“People should most definitely be worried about them. But people should also be worried about those who loved him.” I close my eyes. “Just because you think people should be worrying about Koda and the girls doesn’t mean we shouldn’t worry about you, Christopher.” He says my name softly, and a tear escapes from the corner of my eye, rolling down to my hair. “You have every right not to be fine. You have a right to be sad or even angry.”

“Oh, I’m fucking pissed,” I admit. “As much as I love him, Uncle Viktor, I fucking hate him.” The minute I say the words, guilt washes over me.

“What do you hate him for?”

“For being stupid. For fucking doing the shit he was doing.”

“Did you know he was an addict?”

“Yes and no,” I answer honestly. “I knew he was on something. Knew it in my gut, saw some signs, but that he would have overdosed? Fuck no. Never in my wildest dreams did I think it would get there.”

“As someone who has come back from an overdose,” he says, his voice never changing, “I can say it’s nothing that is done on purpose.”

“God,” I mutter, the tears now coming out like a dripping faucet, “why couldn’t I fucking stop him?” My voice cracks. “Why the fuck didn’t I have a chance to stop him?”

“Guilt,” my uncle says. “Guilt is worse than living with sadness and anger. You see, guilt will eat away at you. Guilt will take over your whole life, and you won’t even fucking know the most important thing.”

“And what is that?”

“That you’re the one still alive. That it didn’t matter what you said, what I said, what his wife would have said to him. The ball was in Benji’s court and no one else’s.” Neither of us says anything as my eyes get heavy. “Now, I’m going to call your father and tell him I spoke to you. But I’m also not going to lie to him. You need to speak to someone, son,” he suggests softly. “Someone who has the tools you need to cope with it.” I still don’t say anything. “I want you to call me tomorrow.” I’m about to say something. “If you don’t, I’m calling your uncles Matthew and Max, along with Grandpa and your father, and we will start the phone chain.” I smile because my family can be a lot of things and can be a lot to handle, but the one thing they do is show up when you need them.


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