Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 102016 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 510(@200wpm)___ 408(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102016 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 510(@200wpm)___ 408(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
I stare at him for ten seconds. “What the fuck? What did you tell her?”
“I told her she’s no family of mine, and she could go somewhere else.”
Beckett holds his hand out for a fist bump.
“She’s delusional.” I look to Blake. “Could she be certifiable? Like, literally crazy?”
Blake shakes his head. “Maybe. I’m not a psychologist. We’ve known for a long time that she’s a narcissist. After Birdie was born so fucking small, Angela didn’t even want to stay in the NICU with her. All she was worried about was herself.”
The reminder still makes me so fucking angry. I didn’t understand what in the hell was wrong with my ex-wife, how she could be so heartless and callous when it came to our infant. At first, I wondered if it was post-partum depression, but as time went on, we realized that she just didn’t care if Birdie lived or died.
She didn’t care about her name. I’m the one who named her. And I’m the one who sat with that baby, held her when I could, day and night, for two fucking months until I could take her home.
“Well, let’s hope that she gets tired of this game soon and goes away,” I say with a sigh. “And let’s get Beckett a life that doesn’t revolve around cows.”
“Fuck you,” my brother says with a laugh. “Just because you’re all messy in love doesn’t mean the rest of us need to be.”
“I’m not messy.”
“Hey, love,” Dani calls out to get my attention. It seems she’s settled on love as my nickname, which doesn’t bother me at all and is way better than Chief.
“Yeah?”
“Who was it that bought that house out on the highway that’s been abandoned for like a million years? Jerry somebody?”
“Jerry Klein,” I reply.
“Thanks, I couldn’t remember.” Then she goes back to talking to Bee. Birdie is asleep, curled up at Dani’s side.
“Thanks, love,” Blake says.
“Fuck you.”
My brothers are smirking, and I grin and shake my head. “She wanted to call me Chief, and I didn’t like it.”
“Why not? You are the chief,” Beck points out.
“Because it’s my job. The guys who work for me call me that. People all over town call me that. Not my girl.”
“I guess it would be weird if a woman I was involved with called me Doc,” Blake says, thinking it over.
“Exactly. You get it. Like, can you imagine? You’re in bed, and she’s all, ‘Faster, Doc.’” Blake shivers, and we all laugh.
“Fuck, point taken,” Blake says.
I stand and walk over to check on my girls and grin when Dani leans over to kiss Birdie on the head.
“You guys okay?”
“Your daughter is exhausted,” Bee says, and her eyes are full of concern when she looks up at me.
“She did a lot this afternoon.”
Bee frowns and looks down at Birdie. “I know, but it feels like more than that.”
Blake hears us and walks over to press his hand to Birdie’s forehead and checks her pulse. “She’s just sleeping. Wore herself out.”
“Heck, I could use a nap,” Dani murmurs, but she’s also watching Birdie closely.
“Call me if you need me,” Blake says, patting me on the shoulder before walking out. Brooks and Beck wave at us from the doorway.
“Come on.” I lift Birdie into my arms and kiss her cheek. “Let’s go home.”
“Daddy?” Her voice is soft with sleep. “Can we have pizza for dinner?”
“Are you awake enough for pizza?”
“I just need a little sleep, but I’m hungry.”
“How about homemade pizza?” Dani asks her. “Does that sound good?”
“Yeah.” Birdie curls up against my chest and goes back to sleep.
“Do you want to join us?” I ask my sister, and to my surprise, she nods.
“I want to keep an eye on this one,” Bee says, nodding to her niece. “And Dani makes the best homemade pizza, so it’s totally for selfish reasons.”
“Then let’s go home and eat.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
DANI
“Okay, guys, did you get your hand traced?” I’m walking around my classroom, guiding my students through an art project for Thanksgiving. It’s the standard, trace the hand and turn it into a turkey craft. One that’s been done for generations.
And, since it’s a half day of school today because tomorrow is Thanksgiving, we’re having fun.
“Good job, Ariel,” I say, patting a little blond-haired girl on the shoulder.
We only have a half hour left of classtime today, and that’s about how long it takes for my kids to glue their projects together.
“I hope you all have a good long weekend,” I say to my class. “Have lots of fun, okay?”
The bell rings, and the kids gather their bags and papers and coats and start to file out of my classroom.
A little boy named Mason approaches me with pink cheeks and shy, downcast eyes.
“Hey, Mason. Do you need something?”
“Um, Miss Dani? Could I maybe take some food home with me?”
And just like that, my heart breaks for this little boy. He’s so thin, and more times than not, his clothes are dirty. His parents didn’t come to parent-teacher conferences, and he rides the bus to and from school, so I’ve never met them.