Page 28 of Coast

“I’ve led an interesting life,” I told her, filling up the bottle, dropping in the scoops, then giving the bottle a good shake as Zoe bopped the miserable Lainey. I tested the milk on my wrist, then reached an arm out. “Here. Give me her.”

“What? Why?”

“To sacrifice her to the fucking clubhouse gremlin. He’s picky—only wants babies or beef jerky. The fuck do you think I want her for? To give her a bottle.”

“I can—”

“Load up a plate and eat every bite so you don’t look like you’ll blow away at the next slight breeze? Yeah, you can do that.”

This time, when I reached for Lainey, Zoe let me take her. Probably more out of shock than anything else.

“Yep. It’s me again,” I told Lainey as she paused her wailing to stare up at me. “Food, Zo,” I demanded as Lainey took the bottle.

“I can’t.”

“Just said you could.”

“I’m… on the job.”

“So clock out.”

“Alright,” she agreed, reaching for her phone.

“That Italian is banging.”

“The owner, I think, was really interesting.”

“You met Tony?”

“You know him?”

“Yeah. He’s old friends with members of the club.”

“He fell in love with Lainey. Wants me to come in and let him talk to her for a while. While I eat. For free.” She sounded dubious.

“He means it,” I told her. “Take him up on the offer. He’s richer than God. He can afford a free meal. Speaking of a meal,” I said, nodding toward the food again.

“A slice,” she conceded, going over to the pizza boxes and pulling one out.

“So, why you carting around a baby doing deliveries? Where’s her father?”

“He’s… not in the picture,” Zoe said, a slice of pain moving across her face. But it was quickly replaced with anger, then something more like resignation.

“Asshole,” I said.

“You have no idea,” she said, mostly to herself before she took a bite. “Oh my God,” she groaned, eyes sliding closed.

I mean, yeah. Tony’s pizza was banging. But I got the feeling that was a ‘I haven’t had pizza in the better part of a year’ kind of moan.

If the baby daddy wasn’t in the picture, and she was trying to make a living doing food delivery—while juggling her baby—it didn’t seem far-fetched to assume there was no money left over for luxuries like takeout.

Fuck knew I understood that feeling really well. In an old life.

The back door burst open and a group of giggling bikini-clad girls rushed in, getting chased by Dixon.

“Sorry,” Zoe said, moving out of their way as they all made a beeline for the island and the food piled on it.

“Oh, look!” one of the girls said, looking over at me. “A baby!”

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