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“Holy shit!” I screech, my fingers smashing against the phone screen as I attempt to zoom in on the photo sloppily.
Oh my god, they’re incredible. My heart gives a pang. Not at the babies. I don’t want them. Ever. But at momma holding them both, one in each arm. Shiloh is glowing, even if she looks ten seconds from passing the hell out. Her eyes are hazy, her cheeks red and tear-stained as she looks down at her boys with all the love in the world.
Logan Huxley-Shiloh’s Man: (photo)
Logan Huxley-Shiloh’s Man: The Huxley’s
Another pang hits me right in the center of my chest. This time, I understand why. It’s not the babies or the very attractive Lumbersnack that they so very clearly take after. It’s the picture. Thewholepicture.
The family. The love. The connection. The lack of loneliness. The partner and friendship she’s found with him.
Logan Huxley-Shiloh’s Man: Logan says he can’t wait any longer. Our wedding is in one month. You’re the Maid of Honor. See you in Blue River on August 4th. Xoxo Shiloh
Rayvn: That’s a month from today, you psychopaths.
Rayvn: They’re perfect. You did good, momma. :)
Logan Huxley-Shiloh’s Man: They look more like me than her. Where’s my credit?
I scoff, barely containing a burst of laughter. Over the last few months, I’ve gotten to know my best friend’s man pretty well. We spent Christmas together, and they finally shared the news of the pregnancy to close friends and family. Logan’s great. He really is. His family is lovely and kind. They made me feel like one of them immediately.
But despite that, I still felt out of place. It’s hard to fit in with people who were raised with an understanding of what a large, close-knit family feels like. I’ve never had that, nor has Shiloh, which is one of the reasons we hit it off immediately in college when we’d been paired together as roommates. We are incredibly similar in a lot of ways, especially where family is concerned. We both come from messy childhoods. However, she seems to have taken to the big sitcom-style family like a fish to water. I doubt I’ll ever have that ability.
I guess that’s what happens when a single father raises you.
Harris Porter has been my role model and best friend since I was five. My mom died of cancer when I was a toddler. I barely remember her. But I do remember my dad, who was a committed firefighter, gave up his freedom for me.
He’d doted on me. Spent his every available minute making sure that I was taken care of, often putting his wants and needs aside. He never dated. Never fell in love again. He also never talked about my mom. I have no idea what a happy, functioning relationship looks like. I have no grand examples of how to be a wife or a partner. Honestly, I’m just winging it.
“What is it?” Addy asks or maybe asks again. I have no idea if she’s been talking to me. For a moment, I’d completely forgotten where I even was.
Smiling at the screen, I type out another message, congratulating the happy family and letting them know I’ll be there in a few weeks for the wedding. I lock the screen and look back at my friend. I’m surprised when I find the vision of her a little foggy. What the hell? Blinking, I realize my eyes are misted over with tears.
Shit. Not here.
“What the hell?” Addison sucks in a sharp breath and leans forward, practically lying on the table. I notice then the food and drinks have been delivered, and her uncomfortable tits are swaying precariously closely to the cheddar.
Shaking my head, I drop my phone back into my purse and smile. “Nothing. Everything is perfect.”
Just not for me.
Chapter Two
July
Mycomputerpingswithan incoming message alert. I click over from one screen, to the next, and open up the chat feature on my website. Everything is anonymous, though my name is pretty well known, especially on the dark web.
The message is a request to have some sex videos removed from a few smaller porn sites that were taken without the person’s consent. I message back asking for a hyperlink to the video, and within seconds I’m in.
Jesus.
As I watch the woman with her hands, eyes, and mouth bound, her blissed-out face clearly in the shot, I can’t help the fact that my dick is interested. The way the dude’s railing her from behind, his fingers digging into her thick thighs without mercy, has heat flaring through me in a way most things these days don’t.
The video plays on one screen while I work on another, using one of the programs I coded to search the web for any other sites the video might be on. The person who sent the request, the woman I presume, says she only found it on three, but in less than 30 seconds my program finds it on eight. After a minute, the search is done and as suspected, it’s been sent to over forty porn sites.
What a piece of shit.
I’m in the process of removing it when the sounds from the video playing through my speakers change. My fingers pause on my keyboard as my eyes flick to the opposite screen. The woman’s head moves slowly from side to side, and through his never-ending grunts, I can barely make out a whimper. I quickly turn the volume up and give the video my full attention. She shakes her head again, this time with more strength. I zoom in. Her body’s shaking, and from the way she’s sloppily trying to pull away, I don’t think it’s from pleasure.
