Fire Inside (Chaos, #2)(88)



There they were and, truthfully, I was surprised Hop had it in him to give that woman the courtesy of ignoring her and finding a chair far away from hers at their daughter’s dance recital. I didn’t know what he would do besides, not with his kids involved. What I knew was that was a further insight into the character of Hopper Kincaid that he’d breathe her air at all.

For his kids.

For both his kids, even when one of them was his by claim, not blood.

“Does Tyra know any of this?” I asked.

“I don’t know. I don’t give a f*ck. For Cody, I didn’t spread that shit around. As far as anyone’s concerned, he’s mine every way he can be. If someone looked at him and guessed, they kept it to themselves. That isn’t what’s important right now, Lanie. What’s important is, I don’t know what shit Tyra spouted or how it came out, you took that shit in, came to me and didn’t let me say a goddamned word before you tore us apart and tore outta there.”

Unfortunately this was true.

“I actually didn’t have a chance to share anything with Tyra and, in her defense, Tyra didn’t want to share but when I walked into the office, she and Elvira were gossiping, you know how Elvira is, and it came out. She doesn’t know about us. She didn’t share it vindictively, Hop. It just…” I paused and finished lamely, “came out.”

“That’s good, babe, that ticks one thing off your list. You don’t have to share ’cause now, this shit, there is no us she needs to know about.”

I felt my eyes get wide and my stomach plummet.

“Hop, I—”

“Save it,” he clipped. “I don’t wanna hear it. You said what you had to say, you made your f*ckin’ judgment which, Lanie, you seem to do a lot of judging even gettin’ pissed that I’d think you would. You’re the master of the backtrack. I spend a lot of time listenin’ to you do it, even gettin’ maneuvered into f*ckin’ apologizin’ to you about it and I do not need that shit in my life.”

“That isn’t fair,” I whispered.

“No, what isn’t fair is you bein’ with me, you knowin’ exactly the man I am, and you walkin’ into my room and layin’ that shit on me. You f*ckin’ know, woman, f*ck me, you goddamned know I am not that man. And you got such a loose hold on your drama, you laid that shit on me. Well, I’m done with your goddamned drama, Lanie. All day, worried goddamned sick about you, goin’ into battle with that monster, goin’ to have words with Cherry, then you lay that on me? You jump to conclusions, tell me to my face you never want me to touch you again?” He shook his head. “No. You don’t want my hands on you, woman? You got it.”

I stood frozen in fear as he turned to the door and he had it opened before he turned back.

“You breathe one word about Cody to anyone, so help me God, you’ll deal with me. That’s mine to share. Nothin’ about me is yours. Not anymore.”

And on that, as every word he said drove home, slicing through me, he moved through the door, slid it closed and prowled away without even a glance back.

I stood, immobile, trying with difficulty to manage the pain and staring at the door thinking how hard that had to have been for Hop to share. How difficult it must be for him to wake up every day and know his woman cheated on him, gave the son he wanted to another man. How he didn’t care and went to the mat to keep a son who wasn’t his but who was. How lucky it was that even though Cody Kincaid’s biological father was a total dick, God saw fit to insert Hopper into his life. How I really, really needed to learn how to get a handle on my drama and not blow things out of proportion.

How I now knew the definition of a cunt.

How I’d just hurt my man, forced him to share something in anger when he wasn’t ready.

And last and most importantly, how the hell I was going to get him back.





Chapter Fifteen


Come Inside


The next day…


“Hop, please call me. I was an idiot. I shouldn’t have done what I did. I promise I’ll get a hold on the drama. I promise, Hopper. Swear.” I took a deep breath. “We need to talk this out, honey. Please call me,” I begged into my phone.

I’d given it the night but this was my third voicemail that day.

I put my phone on my desk, ignored the cautious vibe coming from the staff in my office that I knew was caused by me, and tried to get to work.

But I couldn’t stop thinking about Hop. What I’d done, what he’d said, how to make it better. Needless to say, I didn’t get anything done.

Hours later, I called him and left another voicemail.

Hours after that, before going to bed, I called him again but since he didn’t answer, I hung up.

Tomorrow.

I’d try again tomorrow.

I settled into bed.

I didn’t sleep.

*

Three days later…


I know you’re angry, honey, but please, PLEASE, call me. I need to apologize face to face.

That was text two of the day. It was nine o’clock in the morning.

There would be five more before I laid my head down on my pillow in order not to get a wink of sleep.

*

Two days later…


I sat sipping a beer in the Compound. Brick was with me, shooting the shit.

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