“I’m too old for this shit, asshole. Get in… the damn truck.”
He uses all of his strength to get me to the other side of the truck and inside. The heat feels like it’s unfreezing my skin, and it burns more than it feels good.
The truck door slams shut, hitting my elbow, but I hardly feel the pain there.
“How’d you find me?” I mumble when the truck starts moving. “I called you, but you didn’t answer.”
“Your phone is dead, you dumbass.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Trudy called me. Said you were trying to call me on adead cell.”
“No the fuck I did not.”
“Whatever, Grizz. Just shut up.”
He’s so mad at me, and I don’t understand why. I didn’t do anything to him. I’ve been minding my own business at the bar, drinking. Barely even go home anymore, that way he and Kelsey can have privacy.
“Take me to see her.”
He sighs, his voice softening. “You know I can’t do that.”
“You can, you just don’t want to.”
“Fine. You’re right. I don’t want to. She doesn’t need to see you like this. You’re going to go home, sleep it off, get your shit together, and maybe talk to her then.”
I grumble something that comes out jumbled, then my eyes fall closed and only open again when Tommy shakes me awake.
I fall up the steps, stumble to my bed, drop into it, and fall asleep to the smell of Anastacia on my pillow.
Chapter Fifty-Three
Anastacia
I wring my hands together, pacing the hallway as I wait for the doorbell to ring. He’s five minutes late already, and part of me is worried he won’t show up.
I miss him so much it’s crazy, but this isn’t about that. I can’t make this about us, this is about our baby… both of them.
“God, this is going to go terribly,” I mutter, walking over to the fridge to get a bottle of water. I press it to my forehead before opening it and taking a sip. The doorbell rings, and I almost choke on the water. I put the bottle down so fast it falls over, then drops onto the floor. The cap pops off and water spills all over. I curse as I swipe it off the floor, then frantically look for something to wipe the water up with.
“Hey, let me help you,” Lucian says.
“The doorbell—”
“He will wait.” His hands are on my shoulders and he urges me up, so I stand here. He gives me a soft smile. “Just breathe. You’ve got this.”
I nod and take a breath, like he says.
“Now, do you want me to get the door or clean this up? I can also do both.”
I think about that for a moment, watching the water trail through the grout on the tiles. He’s been working on this house, and here I am ruining all the hard work.
“I’ll get the door.”
“You’ve got this,” he whispers, giving my arm a squeeze. He moves past me to the closet and pulls out a mop—why didn’t I think of that?
The doorbell rings again. I take a deep breath, let it out slowly, then make my way to it. I already know it’s him, but that doesn’t stop the breath from catching in my throat when I open it and see him standing there.
