Page 51 of Wild Devil
“You can take that one,” I say to Frey, nodding to the narrow bed. “I’ll crash on the porch to keep watch.”
“And I will heat up some dinner for everyone,” Lyra says with a nervous laugh. Hospitality isn’t in her nature—she must be anxious as hell, more worried than she’s letting on. To my shock, she even musters up a wary smile before returning to the kitchen.
In no time, we’re all settled in and seated around the rickety table in the main room. Kane is nowhere in sight, though I notice Lyra set a plate of warmed spaghetti aside.
“You seem to be in a good mood,” I point out before taking a bite. The taste of homecooked food makes me realize just how fucking long it’s been since I’ve tasted anything resembling a decent meal. Too long.
Even Frey starts in on her plate of food with earnestness. Damn. I catch myself staring, and I nearly miss the moment Sammy reaches across the table for me. At least not until his fork flies from his grasp and strikes me full in the face.
“Sorry, Daddy!” he chirps, flashing an impish grin. As long as it’s been since I’ve had good food, it’s been even longer since I sat down to eat with him at all. He still hasn’t gotten the hang of utensils yet. There is more sauce smeared around his mouth than in it, I suspect. With a playful sigh, I grab a napkin and attempt to clean him up, while he squirms to shake me off.
“No! I’m a big kid now. I can do it myself!” He pries the napkin from my hand and winds up just making an even bigger mess.
I sit back and watch him, laughing my ass off. At the same time, a deep sense of guilt hits me straight in the gut. I’ve missed too many damn moments like this. Too many.
“Why are you sad, Daddy?” Sammy asks. His smile falls, and his eyes widen. “What happened to your face?” he asks Frey next. “You have boo-boos everywhere.”
“It’s nothing,” she says with so much false cheer I almost believe her.
“I’m not sad,” I say before Sam can question her further. I reach out to stroke my fingers through his wild mess of blond hair. “I’m happy. Very happy. I get to hang out with you for a while.”
“Really?” His eyes sparkle, and he turns his attention to Frey. “Even you, Ms. Lady?”
I hold my breath, unsure of how she’ll react. Not that I should have been worried. If there is one thing she knows how to do, it’s put on a show and flash a good-girl smile, even if she’s destroyed on the inside. She does so now for my son’s benefit. Damn. I didn’t think it was possible to feel more gratitude for her than I already do. She makes herself put on a veneer of happiness just for him, erasing all traces of sadness from her face.
“Yes,” she says, matching his excitement. “We can do whatever you want.”
Sammy’s eyes go even wider. In an awed tone, he whispers, “Bedtime story?”
“Yeah,” I say, wincing. How long has it been since I’ve read him one of those? I don’t even want to know.
“I packed his favorite book,” Lyra calls from the counter. Her back is turned, but I know her ears are perked, primed to hear every word. “It’s in the room.”
“Alright, then!” I slam a hand onto the table. “When you finish eating, we’ll get to it.”
Sammy shoves one last bite of pasta into his mouth. Then he flashes a messy grin. “Done!”
I help him into the small bathroom to brush his teeth and finally clean his face. Then I carry him into the room he shares with Lyra and tuck him into the narrow bed. He watches me expectantly, his hands folded over a blue comforter that I draw up to his chin. “The monkey book,” he prompts, nodding toward a corner of the room where his bag of things is. Frey moves first and retrieves the requested book about a family of monkeys sharing a bed.
As I prop the book open on my lap, I go all in while reading it. I do different voices for each character, and repeat his favorite lines to his heart’s content. He makes me reread the entire book three times before he finally drifts off.
When I look over at Frey, she’s watching me, her expression unreadable. The brave face she put on around Sam has fallen. She seems lost again. Too damn delicate to pester with questions now.
“You should get some sleep,” I say, as I stand and lead the way into the hall. “You can take the other room. I’ll keep watch.”
I head for the front of the cabin, expecting her to stay back, ready to continue our conversation tomorrow. At least that gives me more time to think of a way to question her without sounding like a thoughtless dick. I’m so fixated on the thought that I pass the main room of the cabin and barely notice that Kane has returned, eating his food alongside a suddenly chatty Lyra. I offer up a grunted greeting, but as I step outside, I expect to be alone for the first time in hours. Instead, the second I set foot onto the porch, someone too short to be Lyra or Kane is right on my heels.
“Damien is going to send one of his boys out here to keep watch,” I say. “You’ll be safe.”
“But you won’t be,” she counters.
“Look, we don’t have to talk about what happened back there,” I say, even though the curiosity is killing me. I can’t stop replaying the worst-case scenarios in my head. The bruises on her face don’t put my fears at ease any, not to mention the scratches on her inner thigh…
God, if that motherfucker wasn’t already dead…
I’d kill him myself.
“But I need you to know, that it’s not easy for me to just sit on my fucking hands while you tiptoe in and out of danger. It’s not, Frey. It fucking… It kills me to know you’re in danger.”