Page 77 of Your Last First Kiss
Too fucking long.
The sheriff assured me Eddy would be drying out in detox for at least a few days and then hopefully in jail even longer, but my skin burns like someone’s holding a match to it when I think about Penny and the kids home alone with him still so close.
I tug on the ends of my hair, trying to focus and get my shit in order, but the only thing I can think, feel, or see is them.
All of them.
As mine.
The image of Kai falling into the iron post of the mailbox pops into my brain, and I hit the steering wheel. It’ll be a nightmare that replays on repeat for the rest of my life. My heart stopped when I saw his blood, and a protective rage sent fire through my veins, as violent and unforgiving as lava.
Is it normal to have these thoughts after such a short time?
If it’s not, I’m pretty sure I don’t even care.
This is how I feel. It’s real, and honest, and mine, and no one can take that from me.
The ancient phone Remy left for me to forward my calls to vibrates on the seat next to me, and I look down at a number I recognize on the screen. Ryder. Good. I need to talk to him.
“Hello,” I bark. My emotions are too high for anything else. Not when every reaction feels like not enough.
“Heard you’re a free man. Mind telling me why you’re getting arrested in some small-ass town I’ve never heard of?”
“Ryder, if you tell me Ashton has already called you, I will lose my goddamned mind.”
“I won’t tell you then.”
No point in trying to tame the growl that comes out of me. But this is how Ashton keeps those he loves safe. Wouldn’t I do the same for Penny and the kids?
Stupid question. I’d do anything I could to keep them safe. And I will. As soon as I get back to Chance Lake.
“What’s going on, Dill?” Ryder’s voice is missing his usual light tone. He actually sounds concerned.
“You’re getting a permanent promotion. Effective immediately.” I’m not ready to explain what’s going on in my mind. Not until I can explain it to Penny first.
Silence.
“What did you do?” he asks warily, and I picture him scanning his desk for our lawyer’s information. It makes me lay down a little of the bite in my words.
“They need me, Ryder,” I finally say. “And honestly, I need them too. I can live off the money I’ve made at Envision for the next thirty years. I don’t need that job. It was just a time-filler.”
“And you have a trust fund.” He chuckles dryly.
“Had. I had a trust fund.”
Slowly the pounding in my ears eases until it’s just mild anger living inside of me like a living, breathing force of nature.
“What did you do? Give it away?”
“I bought a giant warehouse.”
“For forty million dollars?” He chokes on the words. “Is this because of your Wednesday girl?”
“Some of it,” I admit. I wait for some kind of shame or worry to hit, but all I feel is blinding love.
“So she finally caved, and you’re what? Going steady?”
“Not exactly,” I hedge.
