Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 82715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
“Mama see?” he asked, his eyes wide. “Slide!”
“Nice sliding. Just be careful, okay?” I warned. “Don’t go on the stairs in those socks, or you might biff it.”
“I won’t,” he agreed, nodding. I knew the minute my back was turned, the little stinker would be doing exactly what I’d told him not to do. “Mama pretty.”
“Thanks, you little flatterer. Yours looks sweaty.”
“Sweaty, yeah,” he announced with relish.
“Okay, well maybe calm down on the sweating?” I wrinkled my nose as I ruffled his hair. “You’re going to meet your great-grandparents tonight.”
“I know,” Rhett said, following me toward the front door.
“I really loved it before you knew that phrase,” I joked, sliding my shoes on as my stomach lurched with nerves.
“Daddy, a motorcycle.” Rhett pointed to the garage door. They must’ve done some exploring while I was getting ready.
“That’s cool, bud.”
“Daddy, a truck.”
“I know. Daddy’s had that truck for a long time,” I murmured, smiling.
“Long time,” he said, nodding his head.
“You excited?” I asked, crouching down so we were nose to nose.
“Yeah.”
“Are you having a good time?”
“Yeah.” He put his hands on my cheeks.
I pressed a hand against my chest, trying to slow the pounding of my heart.
“I’m so glad, bud,” I said, my voice hoarse. “I like it here, too.”
“My house.”
“This is Daddy’s house.” I chuckled.
“My house,” Rhett insisted as I straightened. “Mama’s house. Daddy’s house. My house.”
“Okay.” I knew better than to argue when he got that stubborn tilt to his chin. I looked up as Michael came walking out of the kitchen, and my mouth went dry.
“Sorry,” he muttered quietly. “I told him that it was his house, too, now.”
I nodded distractedly. He was wearing a different take on the same outfit he’d been in the last couple of days, but damn, he looked good. He’d trimmed his beard and pulled his hair back into a low knot. The jeans he was wearing were familiar—they looked just like the others—worn in and just snug enough in all the right places, but he’d put on what looked like a brand new flannel under his cut.
“Should I go change?” I asked, looking down at the leggings and sweater I was wearing. It had seemed appropriate for a family dinner, but not if Michael was dressing up.
“Why?” he asked in confusion as Rhett tugged on my hand. “You look fine.”
“But you’re all—” I waved a hand in his direction.
Michael looked down at himself. “What?”
“Dressed up,” I finished awkwardly.
Michael scoffed and dropped to one knee to help Rhett put on his shoes.
“Ugh,” I groaned. “Sorry, bud. I forgot to put your shoes on.”
“Grams got me this shirt,” Michael said, glancing at me. “I haven’t worn it and I knew she’d ask about it, so.”
“Ah,” I said sheepishly. “Gotcha.”
“Where the hell have you been if you think this is dressed up?” he asked with a chuckle.
“Tuxedos weren’t common,” I replied ruefully.
“Fuck tuxedos,” he said, grinning at me. “But I’d at least put on jeans without grease stains and a hole in the pocket.”
“Fair enough,” I conceded with a laugh.
I wasn’t sure why things were so calm between us since I hadn’t left things in a great place when I’d headed up to take a nap, but I was thankful that he seemed to be trying to put me at ease. I was on edge already without adding more tension between us. I hadn’t seen Michael’s grandma in so long, and while I couldn’t wait, I also dreaded it. She’d been good to me. Kind. And I’d disappeared.
“Coat, son,” I murmured, helping Rhett put on his jacket.
“I put his seat in the truck,” Michael said as I threaded my arms through my own jacket sleeves. “I watched a video to make sure I got it buckled right. Figured that would be okay.”
“It’s fine,” I replied. It wasn’t worth fighting over, not when we seemed to be in a good place for the moment.
We followed Michael out the garage door, and as I heard the wind and rain outside suddenly rise in volume, I was actually thankful that we were taking his truck. I stayed dry and relatively warm as I buckled Rhett into his seat, something I wouldn’t have been out in the driveway near my car.
“You’re gonna have to ride in the middle,” Michael murmured, herding me around the hood of the truck.
“Yes, I noticed,” I replied dryly.
“His seat won’t fit in the middle.”
“It’s fine.”
“Safety first.”
We both acted like I didn’t know how much he’d loved when I sat in the middle seat of his truck, my shoulder tucked behind his and our bodies pressed together all the way to our knees.
I fought the feeling of déjà vu as we drove toward Michael’s grandparents’ house on the other edge of town. They’d lived in the same place forever, since Michael’s uncle Will was just a baby, and I couldn’t count the number of times I’d been there for family events. Birthday parties, holidays, family dinners just because—they were all held at the family home. I could still remember the first time Michael had brought me there, the anxiety I’d felt being surrounded by so many people of all ages. They’d welcomed me right into the fold, though, learning my name and including me in their conversations and their plans and their inside jokes. Michael had teased that he was using the family events to prepare me for life at the club and all the chaos that reigned there, but we’d never actually made it to a club event. The only experience I had at that particular place was limited to a tree at the back of the property where we’d carved our initials. By the time I’d been old enough and brave enough to go to a club party, I’d been long gone.