Page 29 of Filthy Secret
Ryan wouldn’t lie to me about something as serious as a kid, would she?
I’m not sure why I think she’s going to be truthful with me. She did steal a bunch of fucking money and take off without a word said after five years of being together. It fucked me up, but I know I fucked up, too. I’m not an innocent party in any of this shit, so I’m trying to take everything that is happening at face value.
Once we’ve crossed the border, it only takes about forty-five minutes to reach the new rental. Pineville is a welcoming sight, and as I ride through downtown, I glance over at the Filthy Sweet Treats bakery that Shawn owns and smirk.
It’s fucking thriving, and I’m glad I helped her get her business off the ground with the concept of the farmers’ market. A place I have missed since being gone the past few weeks. But I’m ready to get back to it, and now that I have people to shop and cook for, I really can’t fucking wait.
Pulling into the driveway of the new house, I park as far off to the side as possible to give Ryan room to park her car. I haven’t seen this place at all. King just told me he had it taken care of. After getting off my bike, I move toward the front door and take in the house.
It’s a 1970s ranch house. Looks clean from the outside with a simple yard that could use some color. But my favorite part, and the whole reason King jumped on this place for me, is the fact that it has a raised garden in the back.
King is standing at the doorway, his eyes finding mine as he opens his arms. I give him a hug, slamming my fist against his back, and he does the same.
“Welcome home,” he murmurs.
“I wasn’t gone that long,” I point out.
His brow arches, his eyes widening as he tilts his head to the side and stares at me in disbelief. I almost ask him what the fuck he’s trying to say when he actually speaks. But before a single word is spoken, he lets out a bark of laughter.
“You’ve been fucking missing for weeks. The second Ryan walked into the club, you vanished. So, yeah, it’s good to have you back.”
Rolling my eyes to the sky, I step to the side, turning my head to look over my shoulder and find Ryan and Adam making their way toward me, with Rim bringing up the rear. I don’t bother introducing Ryan and King. They’ve known one another for over a decade.
“Good to see you, Ryan. Who do we have here?” King asks, crouching down in front of Adam.
Ryan’s smile widens as she watches the exchange. She opens her mouth to introduce her son, but Adam beats her to it.
“I’m Adam,” he announces.
King’s gaze flicks up to meet mine, then he shifts it back to Adam. “I’m King. It’s very nice to meet you, Adam.” King lifts his hand, places it on his head, and ruffles his hair a bit before he stands.
“You had a kid,” he murmurs to Ryan.
Ryan’s cheeks tint pink before she dips her chin slightly, then her gaze flicks to mine. “I did,” she whispers, but she doesn’t look at King. Her focus is on me and only me.
King takes a step backward, his gaze shifting from Ryan to me. He lifts his brows again. He knows Ryan has a kid. I told him that before I asked him to find her a place to live, but I think he’s probably just taking it all in. Processing everything. I know that I still am.
“Shawn is inside waiting for you,” King mutters, taking a step to the side.
Ryan thanks him, then brushes past him, Adam’s hand in hers as they move into the house. I start to follow behind her, but King steps in front of me. His eyes are focused on mine, and he watches me expectantly.
“What?” I ask.
“Who’s fuckin’ kid is that?”
“It’s Ryan’s,” I state.
He leans forward, his words coming out on a hiss. “Atomic. That’s your kid.”
Shaking my head, I don’t confirm or deny. It’s not mine to actually say one way or the other. “She tells me it’s not mine,” I murmur.
“You don’t believe that shit, do you?” he asks.
Lifting my gaze over his shoulder, I watch as Shawn and Ryan talk just a few feet away. Ryan turns her head to look at me, her eyes bright. Her face is still fucked up, but it’s healing more and more every day. She’s beautiful, even in her bruised state. A goddamn knockout.
“Not for a fucking minute.”
RYAN