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King: Any time after seven.
* * *
I started to type out a sexy reply, but then deleted it. King didn’t seem like the kind of man who made time for sexting. I thought about it some more and decided to hell with it, he could just choose not to reply if he wasn’t into it.
* * *
Me: I can’t stop thinking about your hands around my neck.
* * *
He didn’t come straight back to me. It took him about five minutes, but I figured I hit the mark by the reply I got.
* * *
King: Fuck
Me: And I really liked your belt around my hands.
* * *
Again, five or so minutes passed before he texted back.
* * *
King: I’m in the middle of shit
* * *
I stared at the message, a little unsure of what he meant.
* * *
Me: And?
* * *
This time he didn’t text, he called and got straight to the point when he said, “I’m dealing with club business, and your texts are distracting as fuck.”
I grinned, loving that I’d stirred him up. “Are they getting you hard, King?”
“Fucking hell,” he muttered. “That’s a fucking understatement.”
“So I shouldn’t send you any more? Or what about a boob pic?”
“I have to go. Don’t send me any more shit. I’ll see you tonight.”
The call ended, and I sat on the chair watching my son having a great time while I grinned like a loon. Somewhere along the way, life had gotten really freaking good.
Sometimes in life, you didn’t see things coming. They blindsided you. I’d had a few of those moments in my life—when my father had walked out of it right before my twelfth birthday and the day I’d caught Linc cheating on me. Each of those times, my sister had been there for me. We’d got each other through the heartbreak of our father leaving, and then she’d gotten me through my break-up with Linc. We shared a connection I held dearer than almost anything in my life. With Brynn by my side, I felt like anything was achievable and any situation could be survived.
I had never imagined a life without Brynn.
Could never imagine it.
That afternoon, I was blindsided for the third time in my life.
Robbie and I arrived home from the science centre. His friend who lived next door waved at him as we pulled into the driveway, so he left me to go see him. I slung my bag over my shoulder and exited the garage into the house. Brynn’s car was parked in my garage, so I was surprised to find the house in silence. She usually blasted music while she cooked. Maybe she’d decided not to cook after all.
