Out of Love(50)

Wylder: Not yet. I’ll mention it if I’m asked to give the blessing.

I didn’t mean to giggle out loud, but I couldn’t help it.

“Now you have to tell me what he’s texting you,” Jessica said.

“God, no. It’d be like telling my mom.” I clicked off my phone screen.

“Did he invite you to spend Thanksgiving with him and his family?”

I shrugged. “No. But I think he knew there was no way I’d leave my dad on Thanksgiving.”

“Do you think he’s as emotionally invested in your relationship?”

Emotions and relationships. Two things we didn’t discuss.

“Well, he loves me.”

“He said that?”

I nodded and grinned, staring out the window as we crossed over the Golden Gate Bridge. The whole truth sat on the tip of my tongue. The secrecy with his job. The fact that he killed a man for me. And the true depth of my emotions for him. I couldn’t say it … not to Jessica. Out of everyone in the world, I wanted her, more than anyone else, to see my strength because she’d been working so hard to give it to me.

“My mom said my dad was a complicated man. She said you can’t judge someone by the culmination of their actions. That the right person will see their soul in a way no one else can see it. She said she fell in love with his soul, and it branded her in a way that made it impossible for her to not love him with all her heart. I never thought much about it until I met Slade.”

Jess nodded slowly, keeping her eyes on the road. “Is there something about Slade that I should know about?”

He killed a man for me.

“He’s just mysterious. I feel like I know him. His soul of sorts. But he also has a mysterious side, and there are lots of rumors about him that I don’t think are true. And sometimes I like that I don’t know everything about him. You know? I like discovering him slowly. Like … he hates raisins.”

“The rumors are things like him hating raisins?” She shot me another quick sidelong glance.

I laughed. “No. Just the usual weird stuff that gets spread about anyone who keeps to themselves for the most part. Drug dealer. Male escort. Crazy stuff like that.”

“So you may or may not be dating a drug dealer slash male escort. Maybe holding off the introduction to your dad isn’t such a bad idea after all. Besides, if he hasn’t already done it, he’ll run a background check on him.”

“What?” My mouth fell open. “You’re not serious?”

She lifted a shoulder. “He’s a computer geek. He can hack just about anything. If he knows where he lives, he’s already saved everything from his birth certificate to any positive STD tests.”

My brain snagged on that little piece of information, wondering if he knew who Slade’s employer was. If he did and it was something sketchy, he would have told me. Hell, he would have physically kidnapped me and relocated me to my childhood bedroom. I let Jessica’s revelation give me comfort. Slade must have come up clean in Dad’s searches.

“So much for letting me find my own way in life.”

Jessica grunted a laugh. “Your dad? Are we talking about the same person?”

I rolled my eyes. Come to think of it, I was pretty sure it was my mom who encouraged him to do that. When she died, all common-sense parenting died with her.





Chapter Twenty-One





I returned Saturday night instead of Sunday morning as planned. Dad wasn’t exactly in the best mood. No one knew why. I wondered if it was hardest during the holidays without Mom. She’d always done all the cooking.

When I realized my girls weren’t at the house, I packed a few things and headed to the firehouse. Slade said he would be home late Sunday, but I just wanted to feel close to him. I wanted to bury my head in his pillow. In fact, that was what I did as soon as I got there. I tried to video chat with Slade for the first time, hoping to get a glimpse of his family or something more personal, but he didn’t answer.

Livy: Are you ignoring me on purpose?

Then I sent a photo of me in his bed, wearing only his UCLA tee, my bare legs bent and spread—sexy but tasteful since the lighting didn’t allow the full view between my legs.

I waited and waited for a response. Nothing.

Feeling thirsty and craving something sweet, I sauntered downstairs for a can of natural black cherry soda that he stocked in the fridge just for me. I slid my phone onto the table and took a seat while I popped the top to the soda.

“Shit!” The soda exploded like I’d shaken the hell out of it, but I hadn’t. The dark liquid ran in a fizzy river from the table to the light-colored area rug under the table. “Nooo …” I grabbed the roll of paper towels and threw a wad onto the table to stop the flow before blotting the ugly stain on his rug.

I couldn’t imagine it being an expensive rug, but I didn’t know because I didn’t know much about his financial situation or the price tag on his possessions, which were sparse.

When I tried to clean it with a product I found under the sink, the stain just got worse.

“Nooo …” Plopping back onto my butt, I rested my elbows onto my knees and hung my head. Either I needed to buy a new rug, or I needed to send it off to be cleaned. Aubrey’s parents had a company that picked up area rugs, cleaned them, and returned them to the house.