Page 41 of Brood

Chapter Thirty-Three

When I pull up to my house, the last thing I expect to see is my God damn long lost wife smoking and texting on her phone as if she hasn’t been MIA for the last ten years of our fucking marriage.

When she sees me driving up, the smile on her fake face grows in greeting like I just might be happy to see her. Couldn’t be further from the fucking truth. I slam my truck in park and shut off the engine before getting out and pocketing the keys just in case she tries to take off with it. Which I wouldn’t put past her. “You get lost on your way to your hole in the ground?” I ask as I push past her attempt to coil her skinny arms around me.

“Oh, don’t be like that, Broody. I’m back. I saw your request for a divorce in the paper. I knew I needed to come back and get this settled,” she offers and bats her eyelashes at me. Like that is going to work.

“That was five years ago. You’re late. Judge granted me the divorce. You’ve wasted your time,” I bark and rip open the screen door turning the knob for the front door finding it locked. Shit. “You knocked on my damn door, didn’t you?” I turn and find her smirking like she does. Her hip cocked, and her arms crossed over her over-inflated chest. The damn shirt she is wearing does nothing to hide the hollow collar bone nearly poking through her skin. She is so damn skinny; she looks like death’s door will be the next one she knocks on.

“Your new squeeze is cute. Little young if you ask me—”

“Wasn’t fucking asking. Now crawl back to whatever shit part of existence you came out of because I just don’t have the patience or time to deal with your bullshit right now.”

“Not even for these?” she asks, pulling a small bundle of papers from her bag. They are frayed to shit and rolled up into a tube.

“The fuck is that?”

“Your freedom.”

“You actually went and got divorce papers? Like I said, they are irrelevant. So, you can go and fuck yourself, Anita, because you ain’t getting shit else from me.” I spit down at her feet and take my keys out of my pocket to open the door. When I do, I realize Jordyn is there, door wide open along with her eyes. Clearly having heard everything I said. “All packed and ready, baby?” I ask Jordyn getting a timid nod from her, then she steps back to open the door wider for me to step through. Without a glance behind me, I step inside.

“She showed up here right after you left,” Jordyn tells me, walking over to Kasin, who is happily sitting at the table crunching on those goldfish crackers he likes.

“When it rains, it fucking pours.” She nods in agreement and grabs up a bag from the floor, pulls it over her shoulder.

“What does she want?”

“She brought divorce papers.” I let out a dry laugh. “I have no time to deal with her. Are you all packed up?”

“Yes. I have a bag for Kasin too.” I glance down at the floor to the bags she points at.

“Thank you for that.” I lean in and take her elbow in my hand to pull her close. She comes easily as I bring my arms around her. My frayed nerves seem to melt away when her hands do the same. They barely reach the middle of my back, she is so damn small.

“We are heading to the clubhouse. I put everyone on lockdown,” I explain, then lean down to capture her mouth with my own. She pauses at first, then melts into me and opens up when my tongue swipes along her lips. My sweet girl. Regretfully I pull away before we can get too carried away then lean down to kiss her head. Let’s get going.” She nods in agreement, and I pick up the bags while she takes Kasin’s hand. The three of us walk out of the house as a family. Anita is nowhere to be found as we get loaded up in the truck. Good thing too. Only something nags me in the back of my mind. Like why she has shown up now? After all this time, she decides to come knocking on my door when shit is hitting the fan.

Her being here isn’t a coincidence.

No way in hell.

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