Total pages in book: 158
Estimated words: 160732 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 804(@200wpm)___ 643(@250wpm)___ 536(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 160732 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 804(@200wpm)___ 643(@250wpm)___ 536(@300wpm)
He walked into his house.
“Daddy!” Tatie cried and raced to him.
She had icing in her hair too.
She’d also never made gingerbread men in her kitchen with her family.
“Hey, Buck!” Tia greeted.
“Hola, West,” Mrs. J called.
“Yo, bro,” Minnie said.
“Hiya, Buck,” Lorie called.
But Clara just looked at him, her gorgeous face soft and sweet and happy her man was home.
Tatie hit him, and he put his arms around his girl.
“We’re making gingerbread men. Doesn’t it smell awesome?”
It totally did.
“Yeah, honey,” he murmured, grinning down at her and giving her a squeeze.
She glowed up at him, squeezed him back, then let him go and dashed off, grabbing a little kid and throwing him in the air, the kid squealing as she did.
And she went right back to Clara.
Jesus, not five months ago she was on the floor of the bathroom, beat to shit, having managed by a miracle to escape three assholes intent on altering her life for the extent of it in ways she’d never completely recover from.
This escape happening after they’d altered her life in a way he knew, and it tore him apart every time he thought about it, she’d never completely recover from.
Now, she didn’t go out and party and get drunk. She dated that guy. Hung with her friends. Stayed home and did her homework when she had homework to do.
And worshiped at the altar of Clara.
She was getting a car for Christmas, Clara’s idea, but Buck agreed completely.
Cruise had found it. A vintage, drop-top Mustang.
It was parked down at the warehouse. Driver and Gash had agreed to get it up to the house sometime late Christmas Eve, early Christmas morning.
She’d love it.
He had no idea if she had dark times. He just knew from Clara, “Debbie has that covered.”
He also knew, if Clara hadn’t been around, the girl he had would not be the same girl.
He would hope he’d find the means to be what she needed him to be and give her what she needed in order to push through.
But it could not be denied, he was lucky in more than the countless ways he was already that Clara was around when that shit went down.
He said hey to Griselle, got attacked by a couple of kids, and finally made it to his woman.
He got a lip touch then a sober, “Talk to you a minute?”
Oh shit.
He nodded.
She didn’t delay and took him to their bedroom.
When she closed the door, he informed her, “You have icing in your hair.”
Her hands flew up.
“Really?” she asked.
“Babe, do not touch your hair with those hands.”
She dropped her green-and-red-stained hands that still had bits of liquid-sugar encrusted on them, and looked at them.
Then she giggled to herself.
Christ.
Christ.
She was happy.
He gave her that.
Icing in her hair and a huge-ass Christmas tree she and Tatie kept coming home from wherever they went with more and more new ornaments for, and that giggle.
He gave her all of that.
The very idea of something happening to him and his kids going into the system made him feel the need to hurl.
Her story wasn’t the worst, but it was not good from the moment of birth to the moment she’d walked into the Dive.
And now he could hear Christmas music, chatter, and smell even their bedroom reeked of cookies.
And his woman was giggling.
No matter he felt that down deep in his gut, and it was the best feeling he’d had except the moment he’d learned both his kids had come safe and healthy into the world, he wanted to get this over with.
Clara’s “talk to you a minutes” came often these days.
That was because the woman was loaded, and Christmas was coming.
He’d already nixed her paying for Tatie’s car, but barely.
He’d nixed her renting some luxury house in Mexico for Gear and all his buds—from there and from Flag—for their senior spring break, but barely.
He’d nixed her footing the bill for a top-of-the-line family whale watching cruise in Alaska (of all fucking things), but barely.
It came to the point he’d had to throw her a bone, so they were going skiing in Vail after Christmas. That said, they were splitting the cost of it.
He was a biker. He didn’t ski.
But the kids boarded.
So the kids could board, and he and Clara could fuck.
In other words, that worked.
“Let’s get this over with,” he muttered.
“Sorry?” she asked.
“Whatever you got in your head to give to one of the kids, ask me. I’ll say no, since it’s probably diamonds for Tatie or a world tour for Gear, then I can start forming burgers. I got mouths to feed.”
“I’m done Christmas shopping,” she shared.
Thank fuck for that.
They’d run out of room under the tree a week ago, so that shit had started spreading all over the floor.
“Kristy called.”
He felt his body jerk.
“Come again?” he asked.
“Kristy called,” she repeated.
“Tatie?”
“No.”
“Gear?”
She shook her head.