Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 154728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 619(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 154728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 619(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
He’d kill Brax. He’d do it for me, and it would never tie back to either of us. He wouldn’t lose sleep over it either.
Though I ached for the man responsible for the pain behind my woman’s eyes to stop breathing, I needed to face him first. Feel his bones crush under my fists.
“I’ll deal with it,” I told Knox, hearing the shower turn off upstairs. “Just get him here.”
Avery was naked upstairs. My dick stood at attention at that thought. Her sexy body, full with my child.
My fucking child.
I still hadn’t quite processed it, even though I’d slept with my hand on her stomach all night, had felt our baby move underneath my palm even as Avery slept. I hadn’t slept. Not a fucking wink. No way was I going to miss a second of feeling that. Hearing Avery breathe peacefully next to me. Smell her.
No fucking way.
And I was worried if I gave in to sleep, that I’d wake up on a thin, lumpy mattress in a damp cell.
It was the memories of that cell that had me wrenching myself away from Avery’s warm body in order to run down the beach. Even in her bedroom, cozy and warm, even wrapped up in the scent of her, I felt as if I were suffocating, trapped. The run along the beach had helped—the salty air, the crisp breeze, the open sky and the burning of my lungs, my limbs getting rid of the excess energy.
The lanky dog running beside me had loved it too, stupid fucking tongue wagging all over the place.
The place, Jupiter, was nice. I had to admit that. I’d always liked small towns, loved the ocean. It had a quiet, peaceful feel to it, this place. Not overrun with tourists, not bought out by commercial conglomerates. And the house, the cottage, down a long rambling drive, surrounded by woods but opened up to the ocean off the back porch... So not what I expected of Avery but somehow perfect. Small, unique, warm. I could see her, at the stove, cooking our daughter breakfast.
“It’s a girl,” I told my brother. “I’m going to have a daughter.”
My mouth went dry at the thought. I was going to have a little girl. And I couldn’t be fucking happier.
Although I was going to be in trouble if she was half as beautiful as her mother. Which I knew she would be.
“I’ll get you a shotgun for Christmas,” Knox replied.
I barked out a laugh.
It was genuine. I hadn’t laughed in … how long? The night before I was hauled away in cuffs, probably.
“Seriously, happy for you, brother,” Knox added.
I clutched the phone.
“We haven’t had much real shit to celebrate in this life,” he continued. “Certainly not family. Glad you’ve got it.”
What went unsaid was that he’d never have that. That he wasn’t capable of having that. Because of what happened to him. What he’d protected me from.
“You’ve got to come and meet her,” I urged.
“Sure thing. I’ll be there, shotgun in tow.”
I managed a grin. This one hurt.
“Glad you’re out,” he said.
“Me too.”
Then we hung up, because I knew my brother; that’s all he could say. Knew that he was beating himself up plenty about my months in the pen.
I took a long breath after putting my phone down on the counter, staring out at the ocean. It was calmer today, the sky a pale blue, no clouds, no hint of the storm that had raged throughout the night.
This was the place Avery had chosen. Her escape? Her hiding place? Her sanctuary?
Whatever it was, I decided that Jupiter, Maine, would suit us just fine.
Eighteen
AVERY
I got ready quickly, anxious to get out of the house. Despite the situation, I was starving. As a holdover from the first trimester, if I didn’t eat within an hour or so of waking up, I was sick. The clock was ticking.
And there were the suffocating walls of the house with me and Kane in it. The anger from last night was still there, a living, fire-breathing thing that had not been resolved nor addressed yet.
Because I wanted to give Kane privacy, I went downstairs to let him get ready after throwing on a cotton dress. I had never been a dress person, but I'd become one out of ease. Dressing a bump in a warm spring, approaching summer, I needed simple and breathability.
My hair was much longer now. Before, I’d had a standing appointment in New York, getting a trim every six weeks. Obviously, I couldn’t make that appointment anymore. And I didn’t have the energy to sit in a salon chair with a stranger while making idle conversation. Especially since a pregnant woman was a magnet for people wanting to converse with a stranger. It felt like I was a carnival game. In line at the supermarket, the doctor’s office, the gas station. Everyone wanted to know how far along I was, what the gender was, did I have a name. The questions were endless and infuriating.