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“What about the whole, you wanna screw your way through the MC, thing?”
“It’s called ‘big talk.’”
“Hey, y’all,” Scarlett interrupts our conversation, which I’m grateful for. “I brought some stuff from my mom’s house. These are things my brother and sister don’t use anymore.” She sets the box down that she’s carrying. Her gaze bounces between the two of us, and she knows that we were in the middle of something. Her smile fades.
“Yeah well… I’ll just come back–”
“No,” Savannah puts her hands up. “It’s fine, you’re good.” She gives her a small smile.
“Savannah,” I walk to her, taking her hands in mine. “Don’t be like that.”
“Be like what? Be like my best friend didn’t tell me that she was a virgin. We shared so many secrets. I shared so many secrets.” She shakes her head. “I guess I was clueless.”
“I didn’t feel like revealing it. I should have come clean when you told me about you and Tyson. I didn’t and I’m sorry about that.” I pull her to me and give her a big hug. Her body goes slightly limp in mine.
“You ladies are too cute,” Scarlet says, holding Goober in her hands.
“Sugar?” Sin’s voice comes from behind me. When I turn, I see his eyebrows creased, worry marring his face.
Savannah steps out of my arms before she wipes the tears from her eyes. “I’m fine. Just having a little heart to heart.”
He nods and goes right to Grace, picking her up and snuggling his nose in the crook of her neck. She squeals as he blows raspberries on her skin, and my heart melts at the sight of him. I know that Matthew Sinclair will do nothing but cherish his little girl. He loves his daughter with his whole heart.
Isn’t that how parents should be? Our parents should be the true place of unconditional love. Unfortuneately I never felt that kind of love from my parents growing up. As I got older, I realized that the love my father gave me was only offered if it benefited him. If it showed him in a righteous light. Once I started to question the way he lived and how he raised us, he started to turn his back on me.
“Kinda makes you sick, huh?” Scarlet asks.
“Yeah, but only in the best kind of way.”
“I’m not sure this room’s gonna work,” I tell Lick, who’s standing beside me. It’s the next day, and almost everything is moved in. The cupboards, cabinets, and closets are all full, and each room is fully furnished. Lick has given me the master bedroom at the end of the hall while he takes the first room. The kids’ rooms are in the middle. He said he feels better knowing that the kids have to pass his room to roam the house.
“What’s wrong with it?” he asks. We’re currently standing in Ryder’s room. Lick has plastered every heavy metal group he listened to growing up. I know that he’s a few years old than I am, but these bands seem ancient, and Ryder’s not even a teenager yet.
“Don’t you think that one will give him nightmares?” I point to a poster where the guy is biting the head off a rat.
He turns his body to mirror mine. “Babe,”—Well, that’s a first—“don’t tell me you don’t know who that is?” He points to the poster. “That is classic music representation, right there. Nothing says music like Ozzy Fucking Osborne.”
“What if he likes rap?” My eyes roam over the walls, the bed, the dresser, and the desk.
“The fuck you say?” He shakes his head. “No nephew of mine would like rap. Fuck that shit. My sister better damn well have taught him how to appreciate music. She listened to it enough with me.”
“But he still may like rap.”
“Fuck no.”
“Or country.” I grin. “What if he likes country?”
“That hillbilly shit? How the hell do you expect me to listen to that country bullshit?”
“I’m not saying you should listen to it, but there’s a chance that Ryder will like music other than metal. I’m just warning you.”
“Ain’t fucking happening.” He walks around, running his hands over the furniture. I watch Lick as he fiddles with the little knickknacks on the desk in the corner. He’s a brute of a man. There’s so much beauty in all his fury. So much turmoil that constantly ravages at his soul. He fights his demons every day. Tries to keep the evil beneath the surface, making sure he’s nothing like the woman who gave birth to him.
“Can I ask you something?”
He turns. “You know I don’t like this sharing shit, Sugar Tits.”
“Well, it seems this sharing stuff is something you’re going to have to start to at least tolerate. You’re going to be living with two kids who will for sure have questions and will for sure want answers. Not only about their mom or you, or your family, but they’re going to ask questions about life, and you’re going to need to answer them.”
