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I look over at Sav and see he’s serious. “Baby, you can’t just … pick up a kid from the store.”
Sav takes Pogo from my arms and pets him while we walk home. “I know. But we can apply for adoption. Or find a surrogate. If you really want a child.”
A smile breaks out across my face. “Yeah? You want to be a dad, Sav?”
Looking down at me, I see all the love and affection he has for me. “If you’re their father, too, yes. I know you’d be great with a kid.”
The smile on my face won’t leave. We’ve talked about kids briefly, but Sav was always afraid that we would be caught or someone would recognize him. We’ve been keeping track of what’s going on with Paddy and his old territory, and the word on the street is that Sav is dead. It doesn’t hurt that we’re in another country on the opposite coast. I think he’s started to realize that we’re safe and we can live more.
When we get inside, Sav puts Pogo down and I feed him and give him water while Sav goes to shower. I walk into our library and get the blanket ready and lie down on the squishy couch that’s almost an exact replica of the one from the mansion.
I tuck myself in and look around. I still can’t believe this is my life. I’m free to be with the man I love, with no one hanging anything over my head like my brother used to. Some days, I miss Cris. Not enough to regret what Sav had to do. Sometimes, I wish I still had family out there, to connect me to my past, but it’s better that I don’t. Cris was not a good person. He didn’t love me. He didn’t like me. He was a selfish man that only thought about money. But he was still my brother and I loved him.
Over the past two years, Sav and I have had telehealth therapy appointments three times a week. They help immensely, both of us able to unpack our shit without having to go in and running the risk of getting recognized, which I doubt would happen, but still. The comfort of unloading your shit in your own home is unmatched.
It doesn’t take long for Sav to come in to join me, shirtless—the way I like him—and a pair of loose sweatpants. I let my eyes roam lazily over his body and his lips quirk up. “See something you like?”
“You know I do.” He lies atop me and brushes his lips over mine. The kiss doesn’t get too deep because Pogo trots in the room and jumps on the couch, lying down by Savage’s feet. We both chuckle as Sav pulls the blanket over us, settling back against me. I bring the book around and open it, reading aloud to Sav.
“I love you, my beauty,” he says when I pause after reading the first chapter.
“And I love you, Sav,” I reply, kissing his head, then start to read the second chapter, taking us both into another world of sweetness, spicy scenes, and a happily ever after. Just like ours.
THE END
Want to know what's next? There might be a teaser chapter waiting for you…
Please enjoy the first chapter of Trusting Quin
Little Red riding hood reimagined
Red
Shoving my key in my apartment door, I open it with a feeling of despair. I try to tell myself that I didn’t want that job at the diner anyway. The smell of grease and fried food gets into my clothes and lingers for weeks. But the truth is, I was counting on the tips to pay my electric bill. I’m $60 short for my electric bill and those tips would have been the difference between a hot shower and reading by candlelight.
Flopping on my couch, I think about the evening and where I went wrong. It wasn’t my fault I tripped over a bag that was in the middle of the fucking floor and fell with a tray full of orders. Okay, it’s my fault that I cursed the man out and almost beat his ass for getting in my face, but Gary should have seen that I was in the right before that.
Gary, the uptight manager who thought he ran a five-star restaurant and not a shitty dive bar, comped the guy’s meal—which I think was a kiss-ass thing to do since it was his fault in the first place—and told me to get my shit and go. Real fucking nice way to stand up for his employees.
I only made about fifteen dollars in tips for the three hours I was there and that’s not nearly enough to make the payment. At least my rent is paid so I have somewhere to lay my head, the only silver lining about not having a job right now.
Being out of a job when I need it the most is not high on my priority list. It’s actually pretty fucking low. Grabbing my phone, I pull up the contacts for my best friend and free therapist, Cara, hoping she can make me feel better about the shitty turn of events. If there’s one thing Cara can do, it’s help me put everything in perspective and make me feel like I can tackle the world. She’s good like that.
Her phone only rings once before she’s crooning beautifully in my ear. “Hey, babe! I was just thinking about you. What’s wrong?”
Ugh, she’s eerie when she does that. Sometimes when shit goes down in my life, Cara will call and ask what’s wrong. Even if we talk almost every day, she knows when I’m having a particularly shitty time of it.
Sighing, I tuck my knee under me and flop my head back on the sofa. “Lost my job today.”
“Aww babe.” I hear rustling over on her end of the phone before she says more. “What happened? Were you late or …” she cuts herself off, then curses. “Someone started shit, didn’t they?”
Fucking. Scary. “Yeah. Some douche had his bag in the middle of the aisle and I dropped an order for a six top. Fucking food spilled everywhere and when I said something about it, he tried to get in my face. It wasn’t pretty.” I cringe, thinking of how I acted today. I wasn’t in the wrong, but I didn’t have to try to attack the guy because he was an ass.
Cara spews a few swear words, then says, “You need money? I can help you with rent or with—”
I cut her off with a groan. “No. I can’t take money from you and you know it. We’ve been down this road.” Cara has been trying to get me to move away from the shitty apartments I live in and into her neighborhood, saying she’ll pay my rent until I get on my feet, but she knows I hate handouts. Something that’s really fucking backwards, because if I get desperate enough and if it’s easy, I will lift a wallet in a heartbeat.
I’m a really smart guy, apparently.
