Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
“How old is… Judah, you said?”
“Yeah. Um… one and a half, two? Somewhere around there. Small still. She carried him for over two hours to get to my place.”
“A mother would walk two hours over cut glass and burning coals to get their kid safe,” Luca said.
“True,” I agreed. She sure as hell seemed like a fighter.
“Does she have a family? Somewhere to go? A plan?”
“No. She has no one, she said. I’m sure she’s trying to figure out a plan. But she showed up with nothing. No purse, money, IDs…”
To that, Luca nodded.
“You’re good with her there? I could ask one of the moms to—“
“No,” I cut him off. “I would rather they stay with me. I know I can keep them safe.”
“Okay. That’s fine by me. For the time being, while shit is… unstable, I think it might be best to keep this between just who really needs to know. You can tell your brothers. I guess Smush will find out eventually too. But don’t go letting everyone know.”
“You worried about our crew?” I asked.
“No. Maybe,” he admitted. “I want to think we’re rock-solid. But we’re vulnerable right now. And I just want to be careful until shit blows over.”
“Yeah. I get that. I don’t really need to tell anyone. We already discussed how it was for the best that she not go out of the house for a while, since Warren will have men out looking for them.”
“Good. Good. Alright. Keep me up to date on this,” he said, his phone pinging several times in a row.
Always something going on for the boss, it seemed.
Which was fine.
My own phone had vibrated a few times, and it looked like Claire had sent me the list that I had to see to.
She’d clearly been modest with it. Listing just the bare essentials. Even marking next to Judah’s clothing size that Two or three outfits would be fine.
Two or three, I scoffed as I grabbed two carts at the big box store, walking through the baby section and dropping one of almost everything in the boy section into the cart and grabbing some overnight Pull-Ups before heading to the women’s section.
She’d been even more modest with her own requests, but I grabbed a ton of pants and shirts, some sweaters, pajamas, socks, and underwear. There was no bra size listed, so I skipped over that while having a little talk with myself about picturing the poor woman with nothing on under her shirts.
She’d been through enough. She didn’t need me eye-fucking her while she rested and recovered.
I swung by the shoes, then made it to the toys. Where I probably went a little too nuts. But kids needed shit to play with. And usually needed to have those toys rotated, so they didn’t lose interest.
After the snacks and juices and the high chair, I was technically done. All I had to do was check out then pick up the crib.
But I found myself lingering, walking around with Claire on my mind, since Judah was more than adequately shopped for.
The woman had been a victim and prisoner of a dickhead for years. She deserved some pampering.
Luckily for her, I had a mom and two sisters. So I knew a thing or two about the soft shit they liked.
Fuzzy socks, a nice robe, the coziest blanket I could find. Then the self-care shit that helped them feel better about themselves. Face masks, good body wash and lotion, a little makeup, if she ever wanted to wear any, though she clearly was fucking flawless without it.
Then, done with that, I grabbed some more first aid shit, and checked out before heading home.
I backed the car into the drive, knowing it would be endless trips in through the garage, but I grabbed a few bags and went to the front door first, not wanting to freak her out with the sound of the garage opening without her knowing I was home first.
“It’s me,” I called in case she was close as I put the key in the lock, hearing the steady beep-beep-beep as I opened the door, then quickly punched in the code on the inside panel.
As I turned, I found her walking in from the living room, Judah on her hip.
And, fuck.
I couldn’t count the number of times I’d imagined this very scene. Me coming home from work to find a woman and a kid or two or five waiting for me.
Seeing it was like a kick to the gut.
Even if, I reminded myself, she wasn’t mine. Neither was Judah, even if he did send me a big smile as he looked at me.
He was a happy kid.
I figured that was one hundred percent his mother’s doing.
“Hey,” she said, giving me a wobbly smile.
She’d been crying. Her eyes were red, the lids swollen, and her cheeks splotchy.