Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 87895 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87895 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Those words still don’t sound real to me.
It was barely more than a promise. I can’t call it a he or a she… I have no idea if it would have been a beautiful little boy like Ryan or a sweet little girl.
No. Idea.
None.
I’ll never get to hold my child. I’ll never get to sing to it, to nurse it, to watch it grow. I’ll never hear its laugh, its cry, or hear it say… momma…
“Rory?” Ryan asks.
I look up startled. I quickly take a breath and wipe one of the tears that is starting to leak from the corner of my eye.
“Yeah, baby?”
“Are you okay? Are you still hurting?” he asks, his question innocent—but still painful for me to answer. Mostly because I hate how much I’ve been lying to Ryan lately. He’s got to be protected though.
He has to be.
“I’m fine, Ryan. I promise. Not hurting at all anymore,” I tell him.
“Good,” he grins. I smile back, because I can’t stop myself. When Ryan smiles the world is just better.
He reaches over and grabs my hand and I know what he has in mind before he even starts. Our fingers lock and his little thumb comes up moving around mine.
“Hmmm,” I laugh.
“One, two, three, four! I declare a thumb war!” he announces and I go along. I let him trap my thumb once and then pull it away before he can begin his count. I do this a couple of times and his face becomes a mask of concentration. He even bites his little lip, his eyes narrowing on our hands. I let him capture my thumb. He releases his lip and smiles so big it would almost have to be painful. “I won!” he cheers, like he just won a gold medal in the Olympics.
“Darn it! I suck,” I grumble, sounding disappointed.
“You do, but don’t feel bad. Girls aren’t as good at sports as boys.”
“Is that a fact?” I ask, my eyebrows going up.
“It is. Boys have more muscles. That’s why we have to protect you.”
Spoken like a little boy who grew up around nothing but men. I smile wishing my life could have been so simple, not that I ever wanted someone to protect me. Still, having what I got instead… is so….
I don’t really have the words in my vocabulary to describe it.
“Although, I didn’t protect you. You got hurt because of me,” Ryan whispers, his eyes getting lost. Sometimes I forget he has his own memories now and they are memories a child should never have. He’s completely blocked his mother from his memory and I haven’t brought it up, just because I don’t know how. Eventually we’ll both have to deal with it though… or I guess he and his father will… I won’t be in the picture.
“Stop that Ryan, you did the best you could. Don’t you remember how you put a cloth to my head when I was out and how you stayed with me?”
“He hit you because of me Rory. I should have let him hit me. Dad will be disappointed in me.”
“He will not. Your father will be so proud of you, Ryan.”
“He will?” Ryan asks.
“Definitely and I’m sure he will tell you that when we call today.”
“I really want to hear his voice, Rory. I was scared… he was…. you know…” Ryan says, proving he’s smarter than anyone has ever given him credit for.
“I know,” I tell him and I lean over to kiss the top of his head. “But he’s not, and your Daddy will be really proud of you.”
“That I can definitely agree with,” a man’s voice says from beside the table.
Shit! Some protective adult I am. I didn’t even notice the guy coming back to us. I jerk up, but keep my hands tight on Ryan. My gaze travels up the length of the man and my eyes go wide.
He’s tall, maybe even taller than Noah. He’s also powerfully built, his shoulders wide and his biceps so wide that they stretch the blue checked, flannel shirt he’s wearing. His hair is cut short, his arms that I can see and his fingers are covered in ink. He has a black leather vest on with Savage MC written under the word Dragon and then President. He has a couple rings on and the silver gleams against his milk chocolate skin.
“Uncle Dragon!” Ryan squeals and my body jerks. Ryan obviously knows this man—and likes him. I pick up the silverware the waitress left, wondering if the butter knife will be any sort of weapon against this man, figuring it won’t, but needing something.
Dragon—which I figure is a road name much like Diesel, reaches over and plucks Ryan up from his seat and the boy immediately wraps his arms around the man’s neck and holds on. I’ve managed to unroll the silverware and now have the butter knife in my hand like a weapon.