by Danah Logan
King,
I'm so sorry I couldn't come personally to pick you up. We have some issues with the venue, and I'm hoping to get it sorted out in the next few days.
I meant what I said. I consider you part of my family. Your father's choices in life do NOT define you.
Rhys and Wes have started talking again. While they have not been able to move past all their differences—these boys are so stubborn, can you believe it?—I'm confident things will get better. They're meant to be in each other's lives.
Of course, I hope you and Wes will work things out, but either way, Rhys and I will help you and your baby however we can.
Marcus will accompany you on the flight, and I'll see you the day after tomorrow to go dress shopping. (You didn't think you would get out of attending my wedding, did you?)
Have a safe trip, and don't hesitate to let Marcus know of anything you may need.
Lilly
I read the note four times while clutching the wedding invitation in my other hand. She sounded genuine. The same way Lilly appeared when she showed up at my doorstep. I wanted to trust her, but this was all too good to be true. Girls like me didn't get a happily ever after.
The next twenty-four hours were a whirlwind. My boss didn't like me quitting very much. She immediately shouted about how I would dare leave her. We were on display for the entire diner to watch, and I swallowed hard. I didn't let people walk over me like that, but my current mental state was anything but clear. I had no clue what would await me tomorrow. When she began flailing her arms at me and coming closer, my mouth opened, yet still no words would form. The connection between my ability to form a coherent sentence—like, "Fuck you, bitch!"—and my verbal communication skills were severed. Suddenly, someone pulled me away from my boss, and a tall figure blocked my vision.
Marcus was in front of me while another guy in the same getup stood at my side with his hand on the small of my back. Lilly's bodyguard handed her a wad of cash, sneering, "This will compensate you for any potential loss you incur until you find a new slave."
My former employer gripped the wall beside her, but before I could utter a word, I was ushered outside.
After that, Marcus and his associate, who introduced himself as Ethan, packed up my apartment as I watched everything from the sofa-bed like a movie. This didn't feel real. The more they carried down to the Jeep or packed in boxes, the deeper the pit in my stomach grew, and a black hole was swallowing me. The two men loaded whatever they could into the MOAB, and by evening, Ethan was on his way. That way, I would have my car back sooner than planned, he explained.
I didn't know what to say. Was I really going back? I had to call Kiwi or Mags. I needed to let them know I was coming. Where would I be staying? My pulse sped up as question after question assaulted me.
I spent the night in a hotel room next to Marcus's, and on the way to the private airport, I finally gathered my courage and sent a group message to my friends.
Me: Can I crash on one of your couches for a few nights?
I didn't want to elaborate on why or how I was coming back, let alone make them think I'd be staying. Because let's be honest, I had no clue what would happen beyond the airplane ride.
Their replies were instant:
Mags: FINALLY!!!!!!! It's about time. You're staying here. This is your home, bitch!!!!!!
I laughed out loud at my friend's overuse of exclamation marks.
Kiwi: Are you okay?
He was more hesitant. I had confided in him about Lilly's visit. While I kept in touch with both, my conversations with Mags were mostly pregnancy related—a fact I still hadn't divulged to Kiwi. I wouldn't be able to keep it a secret much longer, being five months pregnant and all, my belly was speaking for itself.
Avoiding a direct answer because I had no clue how I was, I typed: See you soon.
Mags: ?
I pocketed my phone without another response and concentrated on breathing in and out. My buzzing nerves and rapid heart rate could not be good for the baby. I gently placed my hands on my belly, rubbing small circles.
"Let's go home, little one."
My feet have barely made contact with the sidewalk when both of my friends come running out of the house.
"Oh my God, oh my God, you're here! Whose car is this? How are you feeling?" Mags is talking so fast, I have to smirk. I've missed them more than I let myself admit while I was away, and I blink against the fog clouding my vision.
Marcus walks around the back of the car with my bag, and Kiwi's jaw drops. Of course he knows who Marcus Baxter is. He remains mute while Mags appraises him. "Who are you?"
Marcus ignores her and puts my bag next to me on the sidewalk. "You have my number, Monroe. Call if you need anything."
I nod, and he disappears to the other side of the SUV, gets in, and drives off. I watch the taillights disappear around the corner and turn to face my friends. Kiwi stares at me, his mouth hanging slack. No, not me—my belly.
Fuck!
"Roe-Roe?" His eyes slowly travel up to meet mine, and my cheeks heat.
"Can we take this inside?" I don't want to discuss my current state on the side of the road, plus my feet are killing me. It's true what they say about flying while pregnant.
Kiwi grabs my duffel, and Mags leads us inside the house. Stepping through the front door, I pause. "Where's Echo?" Why has my dog not come to greet me?
My friends hold their breath, and my heart stutters before taking off and pounding against my rib cage. "Where is my dog?"
God, please don't tell me something happened to her.
"Uh, well…" Mags stammers—something she never does.
Kiwi chews on his bottom lip, and he might as well be strangling me.
"W-where is Echo?" I repeat myself a third time.
Mags looks at Kiwi for…help? What the—
"She's with Wes," he rushes out so fast I do a double take.
She's with Wes. His words reverberate in my mind. She is with Wes. "WHAT THE FUCK?"
They jolt at my screech, but I couldn't care less. "Why the hell is my dog with my ex-boyfriend? You told me last week that she was fine." I level them with a glare that would've made my mother proud. I had asked them during every phone call how my baby—canine baby—was doing, and every single time, they assured me she was great.
"So, uh…" Kiwi tries to form words, but I'm past patience. Don't tell a pregnant girl her dog is gone. Let alone that she's with the one person who hates her most.
"Wes has been hanging out." Mags picks at her nails.
I bore my eyes into her. "Explain."
"He's been checking on Echo when I have to work. He's been coming to The Grizz again. But he's…he—"
"He what?" I throw my arms up.
"He's not been doing well. Especially after I set him straight," Kiwi tries his luck. "He drinks. His injury cost him his spot on the team for the season."
Set him straight? Injury?
I can't let myself ask about either. I thrust my hand out. "Keys."
"What?" Mags blinks.
"Roe-Roe, I don't think it's a good idea—"
"ONE OF YOU IS GOING TO GIVE ME YOUR FUCKING CAR KEYS RIGHT FUCKING NOW!" I'm bordering on hysteria. I'm overreacting. I could've asked one of them to drive me, but I am tired, hungry, and my baby has been sitting on my bladder for the past hour.
Kiwi digs out his keys, and I snatch them before he can say another word. I will stop along the way to pee, even if it is in the bushes.
I probably break half a dozen traffic laws on my way, which, in the back of my mind, I know isn't safe. There is still snow on the ground. I stop in front of the short driveway, blocking the garage of Kai and Wes's townhouse in the process. That way, no one can make a run for it.
Throwing the door open with more force than necessary, I exit the car. The light shining through the large windows illuminates the front walkway like a stadium, all the way down to the sidewalk. Do they have every freaking lamp in the house on? Wh
at a waste of electricity. Fucking rich people. And why the hell do I care? For a split second, as my foot hits the first step, I slow down. What if they're having a party? I'm not ready to face anyone. My trembling hands make matters worse. Is this nervous anxiety or plain rage? Curling my fingers into fists, I make the decision: rage. Before I can change my mind, I let myself in—ready to clock the son-of-a-bitch dog thief if I have to.
My eardrums are assaulted by a cacophony of sound. What the hell? "Numb" by August Alsina is blaring through the speakers of their club-worthy sound system. Something like gunshots accompany the bass, and when I round the corner to the open-concept kitchen-living room, I see the TV playing some type of action movie.
My anger disintegrates, and my heart freezes mid-beat. Wes is sprawled out on the couch, legs propped on the coffee table, head resting on the back, eyes closed. He's holding a bottle of…something in one hand, and the other rests on Echo, who is curled up next to him with her snout tucked between Wes and the couch.
I'm dizzy. I was so consumed by rage that he took my dog that I didn't consider for a second what it would do to me to see him again.
Despite the volume in the room, I tiptoe closer. Not that he would've heard me if I wore tap shoes attached to a megaphone while crossing the hardwood floor. With every step, my pulse increases from a slow jog to a full-on sprint, and I am unsure what to do. Wes doesn't move, and neither does Echo. I lower myself onto the other side of the L-shaped couch and wait. They don't stir as I watch them, drinking in Wes's gorgeous features. Finally, I take the universal remote and tap the mute buttons for both systems. Echo instantly jolts into a sitting position and presses herself against Wes protectively. Her eyes meet mine, and I swear she narrows them at me accusingly.
Like I didn't already feel guilty enough. Or maybe it's the mother in me talking.
"Hey, girl," I whisper low, not wanting to wake Wes. Yet.
Echo tilts her head, and after a moment of hesitation, she jumps the entire length of the sectional and lands next to me. Her front paws are on my shoulders, and she greets me with sloppy doggy kisses. A laugh bubbles up, and I attempt to ward her off and hug her at the same time. I've missed my fur baby so much.
"You're back."
Echo and I freeze at his slurred words. Oh God.
"It's been a few days."
Huh?
My dog leaves me to go back to Wes's side, and I frown at him. He blinks, and I can't decipher if he sees me or if he's asleep.
"I missed you."
His words hit me hard. Who was he expecting? Did he replace me? I didn't delude myself that he would wait for me, not after what I did to him, but fuck, this hurts. My throat suddenly is too scratchy to speak, and I swipe under my eye to prevent the tears from spilling over.
Wes frowns and pushes himself up in his seat. "Why are you crying, Princess?"
Princess. He even gave my replacement the same endearment. I can't do this. I need to— "I should go," I whisper as I shift my weight to my legs to stand. If he's waiting for someone, I don't want to be here when she comes.
"Don't!" He panics, and I halt with my palms pressing into the cushion. "Don't leave. This is the only time I get to see you."
I skim the room, confused, before I let my gaze settle on his gorgeous face again. "What do you mean?"
He lifts the bottle as if to say,' See?'
"Are you…drunk?" My brow creases as I scan him up and down. His clothes are wrinkled, his hair looks like he hasn't washed it in…weeks, and he's lost weight. "Wes, what's going on?"
"Of course I'm drunk, Princess. What do you think? It's the only time I get to be with you and don't feel like shit." Suddenly, his eyes focus on me, and I wait for him to realize that it's me. "You left me."
A flutter of hope forms in my chest. Do I engage in this conversation? I have no clue what to do. I rest my forearms on my knees, leaning far enough forward that my oversized sweater conceals my protruding belly. This is not the time.
"I didn't think you wanted to be with me anymore," I reply softly.
"I didn't."
My heart begins to break all over again when he adds, "But then Kiwi told me you had no idea until you came here. And Rhys…he and Lilly…" Wes trails off and takes another swig.
"Why don't you give that to me?" I wiggle my fingers in his direction. Wes looks between me and my hand before he slowly extends the bottle. I take it and place it on the table. I'm about to sit back when he grips my wrist. My gaze flies to his, and I hold my breath. Painfully slow, he shifts until he intertwines our fingers.
"You feel so real tonight."
Oh, shit.
I tug, trying to disentangle myself from him, but no dice. He's too strong, and if I'm honest, I don't want to let go. I've missed this man so much. Even if he thinks he's dreaming, I want to dream with him—pretend that there is a chance for us. Just for a few more minutes.
I scoot to the edge of my seat. Our knees almost touch, and he sucks in a breath.
"What are you doing to yourself, baby?" I can no longer hold the sadness inside. Seeing Wes so broken shatters my heart into tiny shards.
I lift my hand to the side of his face, and he immediately leans into my touch, closing his eyes.
"King?" he rasps.
"Yes?" My heart is hammering against my ribs. The proximity to him after so many months and the fear of him realizing he's not dreaming are pushing my adrenaline level through the roof.
"I never told you how much I love you."
What?
I try to pull away, but he holds on tight, and his lids pop open.
"What did you say?" Every inch of my skin tingles. Oh God, I've dreamed so many times of hearing those words from him, but he's drunk. It's the alcohol speaking.
"I said I love you. I wanted to tell you so many times before…" He lets the sentence hang, and I get it. We had only been together for a hot second. I knew that what I was feeling for him, even then, was not just a crush.
Fuck it.
"I love you, too." This must be the hormones and sleep deprivation—because what the hell?
He lifts our clasped fingers to his lips and places a soft kiss on my knuckles. "Thank you."
This conversation is confusing. "Um, you're welcome?"
Wes chuckles, then looks at Echo. "I'm gonna take her out."
He stands, and the sudden loss of contact rips open a void inside of me. I want to shout at him to come back, but instead, I say, "Why did you take her?"
"Huh?"
"Echo." I tilt my head in her direction. "Why did you bring her here?" And why did Mags let him? But that's a chat I will take up with her.
"She was my connection to you." Those are his parting words before he leads my dog out the door.
I sit motionlessly. Stunned. What am I going to do with this?
Suddenly, my bladder signals that I never stopped to pee. Uh-oh. I jump up and speed waddle—there is no way this is considered walking anymore—to the hall bathroom. Shit, shit, shit.
I'm washing my hands when I hear voices, and I hold my breath.
"Ugh, some fucker is blocking our driveway again. I'm going to have a word with the asswipe from two doors down tomorrow. It's always his damn visitors." Pause. "Bro, did you drink alone again?" Kai.
"I have company." Wes.
"The dog doesn't count, dick," Kai retorts, but a laugh is audible in his tone.
"Whatever, I'm going to bed."
"Cool. Night."
Two doors close shortly after, and I sag in relief against the wall next to the sink. Time to leave. Opening the door a sliver, I peer outside. The light in the house is dimmed, and I tiptoe to the entrance. I'm about to turn the knob when the red blinking light catches my attention. Ah, fuck, they armed the security system.
I stand there for several minutes. If I trip the alarm, I'm going to have to answer to them both right now. I'm dead on my feet, but maybe if I hide in the media room, and one of them disarms the system in the morning bef
ore they find me, then I can sneak out.
Decision made, I grab a blanket off the couch and make my way to my makeshift bed. I close the door, checking three times that it's indeed shut, and then curl up on the couch the guys put in here.
It's surprisingly comfy.
I have no idea what'll happen tomorrow. As of right now, Nugget and I don't care. We're both too exhausted.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
My tongue feels like I licked a carpet—fucking gross. It's worth the few hours of oblivion, though.
Something wet swipes over my cheek, and I wrinkle my nose. I relish and despise Echo's wake-up calls equally. Okay, maybe I prefer it over waking up alone and hungover. Rolling to the side, I wrestle Echo until she's tucked under my arm. "We need to get you more of those teeth-cleaning bone thingies, girl. Your breath stinks."
Instead of being offended, she licks me over the mouth, and I can't help laughing. I scratch her ear. "Let's take you out before you leave Kai another present."
She had one small accident when I had first brought her over and we didn't have our routine yet, but Kai will not let me live it down.
I throw the covers back and walk over to the bathroom. If I don't pee first, I'm going to leave my roommate a surprise. After completing my business, I throw on a T-shirt and pad down the hall. I disarm the alarm and open the front door, but Echo is nowhere in sight—what the hell? She usually shoots past me and is on the little patch of grass in front of the house before I can take the first step. Glancing back, I find her with her nose pressed against the media room. I narrow my eyes. Kai better not have left old food in there again. That also happened, and poor Echo had the runs for two days.
I walk down the hallway and grab her by the collar. "Let's go, girl." But she won't budge and begins to whine.
Jesus, this better be something good.
"Let's take a look, alright?" I twist the knob and let the door swing inward. Before I can turn on the light, the dog takes off. I lift my hand to flip the switch when I notice a foot hanging over the armrest on one of the couches.