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But it kind of is, isn’t it? I should have realized something was wrong, should have asked more questions as I got older.
Swift returns to the room, wearing all black. He tucks something into his pocket and then pushes through his pack to reach me. He braces one hand on the back of the couch, leaning over me, while his other sweeps along my jaw and into my wavy light brown hair, gripping it tight to tilt my head back. “Gonna run an errand, Cherrybomb. I won’t be too long. Promise,” he murmurs against my lips, before he kisses me.
It’s not a quick kiss either, it’s long and lingering, a little filthy. His tongue sweeping into my mouth to flick against mine, then sliding deeper like he’s trying to tongue fuck my throat, or tickle my tonsils.
“Jesus, Swift,” Logan growls out. “Let the girl breathe.”
The blond alpha pulls back with a grunt and presses a tender kiss to my lips. “She doesn’t need to breathe if I’m her air.”
I blink up at him, my brain fuzzy with lust. My perfume is heavy in the air, and I’m slick with arousal between my legs. Swift’s plush pink lips curl into a satisfied smirk, and he kisses me again before pulling back and straightening. “Be back soon, Cherrybomb.”
A breath later and he’s gone, the elevator’s ding signifying his departure.
Logan moves back into the space in front of my knees, hands resting on my thighs. His light green eyes are worried as they linger on the bruise on the side of my face. “How are you feeling, mo chuisle?”
It takes me a moment to focus on his question. “I’m okay,” I reassure him. He doesn’t look like he believes me, and I can’t blame him for that. In the last hour, I’ve almost been kidnapped, knocked out, and discovered that I might not have actually been sick the entire time I was a child.
It’s weird that I think that is the most fucked up part, isn’t it? But it feels like the Joey King TV show The Act. My mother spent years telling me I was sick, taking me to doctor’s appointments, letting them do god knows what to me, and for what? Did she have Munchausen’s by proxy? Was it to get sympathy for being a single mother to a sick kid? What the hell was she thinking?
“I need to call my mother. I need to know…” I trail off, because they know what I need to know.
“Where’s your phone, vixen?” Luca asks, squeezing my thigh.
“In my bag.” A moment later, Ethan hands me the device and I pull up my mother’s number and hit the call button. It rings through to voicemail. I shouldn’t be surprised. She never picks up when I call, but heaven forbid I should ignore her when she rings me.
I stubbornly try calling again. Voicemail.
“She’s going to pick up eventually,” I mutter to myself. Calling a third time. And a fourth.
On the fifth she finally picks up with a snapped out, “What, Sadie?”
“Finally,” I snap just as harshly. “Why would you ignore my call? What if it was an emergency?”
I can hear the frustration in her voice when she says, “is it an emergency?”
My eyes slide to Luca sitting next to me, hand curled around my thigh in a comforting grip. “Well, no. But-”
“Then what the hell are you calling me for? If I don’t pick up, I’m obviously busy, Sadie. Leave a message and I will call you back when I’m not busy. Or better yet, send a text!”
A text that she can ignore for days on end and then finally respond to when it’s convenient for her.
“Mom, listen. I have some questions-” I say, but she talks over me.
“Honestly, Sadie. Can’t you just give me a little bit of peace? After years of taking care of you while you were sick, don’t I deserve some alone time? Some me time? If it’s not an emergency, then I have to go.”
“Mom, wait! Please!” But I know it’s too late. She’s already hung up. Already decided I’m not worth a single conversation. I stare at the blank screen, then stubbornly hit the call button again. This time, it doesn’t even connect. “Holy shit.” I mutter, shaking my head in disbelief. “She blocked me.”
It’s not the first time she’s done this. Once she went on a vacation to Paris and I couldn’t get in contact with her the entire time she was there. Which you know, fair, she was on vacation. But this… I’m obviously upset, and she could brush my emotions aside so easily?
How does she even call herself my mother?
I sink back against the couch, and Luca and Ethan cuddle closer to me. Maddox’s hand smooths down the back of my head before cupping my neck again. “It’s okay, trouble,” he murmurs as Logan laces his fingers with my numb ones. “We’ll get answers. I’m pretty sure Swift is already working on it.”
Chapter 18: In which I kidnap my girl’s mother
I
probably shouldn’t be doing this. No. I know I shouldn’t be doing this, but I don’t really give a fuck.
