Page 28 of Filthy Savage

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Page 28 of Filthy Savage

She’s a woman now. Almost thirty years old and ready for everything I want to give her.

A marriage, kids, love. All of it.

It’s always been Spencer. I’ve been waiting for her to come back to me, and I didn’t even know it. Spencer belongs in Pineville. She is ours. And she will be mine—forever.

CHAPTER

ELEVEN

SPENCER

Desserts consumed,kids bathed and in bed. It’s time for the moms to relax, and I happily join them. Kyle lets out a sigh and sinks down beside me. I’m sitting at a table, Shawn and Ryan also joining us.

“So, what do you do?” Kyle asks.

I can’t believe I haven’t even told them my profession. I know what Ryan and Shawn do, the bakery. But I have no idea what Kyle does, and none of them know what I do for a living, either.

“I am a graphic designer,” I say. “Websites, business branding, signage, book covers. Whatever people need, I’m the girl who does it. What about you?” I ask, turning to Kyle.

She clears her throat, shifting in her seat slightly before she speaks. “I work at Sal’s Bar,” she states.

I stare at her, tilting my head to the side. “Do you dance?” I ask.

I don’t judge. She’s got the body to dance, but I am surprised that Gnaw would let that happen. I can’t imagine any of these guys being cool with that. They just don’t seem like the type whowould be okay with their women showing everything they have to the world.

“No, I work in the bar. But I’m friends with all those girls.”

I can tell she thinks I’m judging her, but I’m really not. Reaching out, I wrap my fingers around her wrist and squeeze her. “Girl,” I whisper, “I wouldn’t care if you were the star of the show. I wouldn’t think of you any differently.”

She lets out a heavy exhale, and I don’t know why, but she seems relieved. Smiling, I shake my head once. “We’ve all done something shady for a good meal. Nobody is going to judge anyone.”

Shawn laughs, lifting her glass. “Amen.”

We all clink glasses and then take a drink. The rest of the evening, we continue to drink and talk shit. Lots of shit. It’s great. I feel like, for the first time in my life, I have a set of girlfriends.

I’ve never really had friends before, and this is fun. I’m excited to stay here in Pineville and be with them. I hope we can really become more than friends, the family the Dark Horse is meant to be.

The phone to the clubhouse rings, and I turn my head, watching it light up on the wall. It’s hilarious to me that there is even a landline here. I don’t understand why they still have it at all, let alone why anyone is actually calling it.

I watch as the prospect who has been working the bar makes his way over to the phone. He picks it up and holds it to his ear before his attention swings to me. His eyes meet mine. He nods once, then lifts his hand and motions for me to come over.

As if I’m some kind of robot, my body moves without me even thinking. I don’t know why, but I feel my chest squeeze as I walk closer to the phone. I find it hard to breathe, my heart racing faster and harder with each step I take.

“Phone’s for you,” he announces as he thrusts the receiver at me.

I wrap my fingers around the receiver and bring it to my ear, letting out a heavy breath before I greet whoever is on the other end of the line with ahello. There is a crackling sound, and my spine straightens, wondering what the fuck is happening.

Then I hear his voice.

“Spencer?”

“Humble?” I ask.

He hums, and my shoulders relax immediately. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Are you?”

He chuckles, although it’s not out of humor. It’s his way of saying that he’s okay, but he wishes he were anywhere else. At least, that’s what I assume he’s thinking because he doesn’t actually say anything.




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