Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 130673 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 653(@200wpm)___ 523(@250wpm)___ 436(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130673 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 653(@200wpm)___ 523(@250wpm)___ 436(@300wpm)
Gravity charged toward the corridor, where she disappeared into her room.
“Where the fuck were y—” I turned to Dylan, fully prepared to give her a piece of my mind, but the minute her child was no longer in the room, her shoulders slumped and her face fell. The rest of the word perished in my throat. Her olive skin paled, her eyes sunk into two dark hollows, and her nose became red as tears drenched her cheeks.
Was this how a real parent behaved—mastering the art of prioritizing someone else even when they wanted to fall apart? I’d never seen Dylan like this. She was always the most stubborn, proud, fearless woman I knew. And I guess she’d stayed that way. But only for her daughter.
“What happened?” I demanded, a thunderstorm rolling over my temper. Up until a second ago, I’d been inconvenienced. Now, I was pissed. Row was going to rip me a new one if something had happened to his baby sister under my watch.
Instead of answering me, Dylan threw herself at me, burying her face in my neck and encircling me with her arms. She started sobbing uncontrollably, the kind of hiccupy, breathless bawling that ripped your heart out even if you didn’t possess one. My knee-jerk reaction was to hurl her to the couch and bolt. I forced myself to stay still. She needed someone. Guess that someone was me. Soon my neck was wet and warm with her tears, and I couldn’t help it: I wrapped my arms around her, bringing her close to my chest.
I’d never held a woman like this. Never been held like this either.
I was a stoic kid—independent, gruff, a rule follower, and above all, a selfish bastard. My parents weren’t affectionate outside their own dazzling marriage, and the best lesson they taught me was that love had the tendency to quickly turn into an all-consuming obsession, a mutant of insanity, so I stayed the hell away from it.
Growing up, I didn’t have girlfriends or relationships or anything that resembled intimacy. I had sex. Lots of it. But I’d always been up-front about what I was offering—a good time, a perfect date (if you could afford my rate)—nothing more, nothing less.
Her stomach grumbled between us. She hadn’t eaten. Where the hell had she been for seven, almost eight hours?
I untangled myself from her, waltzing over to the state-of-the-art kitchen. “You need a tall glass of whatever the fuck has the most alcohol in it and a hearty meal.” I tried to relax my jaw before it snapped and shot out of the Milky Way. I reached straight for the good whiskey in Row’s bar cart, pouring a generous amount into two tumblers.
“I didn’t realize you knew how to cook,” she sniffled, and I caught her in my periphery wiping her eyes quickly.
“I don’t,” I reassured her, “but I am fucking excellent with my phone and the DoorDash app.”
“I still need to put Grav to bed and take a shower…” She trailed off.
I spun around and handed her the drink I’d fixed for her. “Down a quarter. Now.”
She took a shaky sip but didn’t sass back this time.
“The child can wait.”
“Stop calling her the child like she’s something that needs to be extorted,” she scoffed, the color returning to her cheeks. “And it’s already past her bedtime. I promised her a story.”
“I’ll let her play a game on my phone.”
“She doesn’t know how to play mobile games.”
“She does now,” I confessed.
Dylan’s jaw went slack. She looked ready to pluck my nuts with a pair of tweezers.
“Hey, I was in survival mode, okay?” I grabbed her shoulders and swiveled her toward the hallway, physically escorting her to the master bedroom. “Go take your bath—I’ll order us food. I’ll read the chil—Gravity a bedtime story.” What difference did it make? I’d already wasted my entire day on the kid.
Dylan was reluctant to move, hugging her midriff. “She also needs a good-night kiss.”
“Consider it done.”
“And words of affirmation.”
“Uh-huh.”
“And…and…”
“Dylan.” I clutched her shoulders, forcing eye contact on her. “Go.”
I read the child Gravity a surprisingly entertaining book called I Need a New Butt. As far as I was concerned, it was the height of literature. Fart jokes? Check. Crack jokes? Check. Stupid pranks? Check. The kid was draining, but at least she had good taste in books. I then threw a blanket over her like I was putting out a fire.
“G’night.”
“Uncle Rhyrand, you forgot my good-night kiss.”
Internally gagging like a cat with a hair ball stuck in its airway, I leaned down and pressed my lips to her forehead. She had that tiny-human smell, somewhere between baked goods and a warm, fluffy pillow. I stood up. She blinked back at me in the dark. “Don’t forget words of affirmation, asshole.” Dylan’s words echoed in my head. Even in my head, she was busting my balls.