Page 63 of Filthy Secret

I take the coffee from her hands, and we move toward the house. Glancing around, I check to see if that idiot pimp is anywhere nearby. I don’t know why, but I feel like he’s watching us. I look at Ryan, who doesn’t seem bothered at all.

I need to get them locked away so I can focus on this and only this. Using my house key, I let us inside. I expect the house to be completely quiet, but it’s not. I can hear Nash laughing, and then the sound of some cartoon noise in the background.

We move through the house and step into the living room. Nash is sitting in the corner of the sofa, his eyes on the screen in front of him, and Adam is sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table, his cars on top as he holds one in his grip while looking up at the screen.

Those fucking police animals are on television, and Nash chuckles, lifting his chin toward me when he realizes we’ve approached. “Mornin’.”

“Enjoying the cartoon?” I ask.

He jerks his chin. “This is wild. What the fuck will they come up with next?”

“No damn clue, and he loves it,” I say.

Adam turns his head, his eyes widening as he realizes that we’re here, not having heard us walk into the room because he was completely and totally lost in his show. He smiles, stands, and without speaking, he hurries toward me, wrapping his arms around my legs.

“Hey, Dad.”

I don’t know why. I’m not sure why the fuck this moment makes me weak in the knees, but it does. Maybe it’s because I’m his dad. I’m his real father. Not just playing at it, but biologically. I told myself it didn’t matter, and I don’t think it would have, but the fact that I am, it does now.

Crouching down in front of him, careful not to spill the coffee, I give him a smile. “You have a good night?” I ask.

His gaze flicks over to Nash, then back to mine. “I did. Uncle Nash is fun. He says a lot of bad words.”

My eyes widen, because I have no doubt this kid has heard all those same words from me in the short amount of time we’ve spent together. But it’s Ryan who bursts out laughing. She reaches out to touch Adam’s cheek.

“I have donuts,” she calls out. “Go to the table.”

Adam takes a step backward, lifts his arms in the air, and cries out the word donuts before he runs toward the table. I can’t help but smile at the kid. He’s cute as fuck. Maybe just because he’s mine, but maybe just because he’s that damn cute.

Nash jerks his chin toward me, and I look at Ryan. She smiles, reaching out and taking her coffee before she brushes past me and heads straight for the table with Adam. I watch for a moment as she takes out plates and they choose their donuts.

Fucking hell, I never thought I would be here, in a house with a woman who puts donuts on a damn plate, and I love it. I love every single second of it. There is nothing about this scenario that I don’t fucking adore, except for the fact that I wish I’d always had it. I wish it weren’t brand new.

I wish a lot of fucking things.

But at the same time, I would not appreciate this moment right here nearly as much if I had always had it at the tips of my fingers. I have to keep telling myself that, either because it’s the truth or it’s what I need to believe.

Either way, it’s what I am choosing to believe from now on. No more angry regrets, no more guilt or shaming. This life is the way it is for a reason, and I’m going to embrace it all. The good, the bad, and the ugly.

Because Ryan is embracing my good, bad, and ugly for a second time. And that makes her a goddamn saint.

RYAN

Watching out of the corner of my eye, I observe as Nash and Grover sit on the sofa talking, leaning close together and murmuring their words. I have no doubt they’re talking about Ellen and the fact that Grover snatched her from outside the clubhouse gate and literally dragged her ass away and into some kind of holding room.

Nash stands to his feet, his eyes find mine, and he jerks his chin, his eyes searching my own. “Pack your bag.”

I almost laugh but decide against it. Instead, I bite the inside of my cheek and nod once. I can tell that there is more than just this idiot pimp and my strung-out sister. This feels bigger than just them.

Standing, I touch Adam’s shoulder and tell him I’ll be back soon. I hurry toward the bedroom, grab my suitcase, the one I just unpacked a few days ago, and pack it again. I was hoping to start work at the bakery soon. I was hoping to get Adam in his new school so he could be around some kids his age.

I was hoping for a lot.

Instead, I’m left feeling a sense of gloom and doom.

I hate that.

It doesn’t take me long to pack my bag. I don’t need much down there. It’s not like I’ll be able to go anywhere but the kitchen and the bar. Just the thought of being stuck there makes me feel sick. It shouldn’t. None of those men would do anything to me or Adam. They’ll protect us with their lives, but that’s not what bothers me.