Page 42 of Holley Jolly Biker

I had thought about it.

I can’t tell you how many times I have thought about it.

Some might think we’re crazy, but when you know... you know.

Therefore, I asked, “One day. I do plan to ask her. Would that be okay with you?”

“Will I’s become your daughter?” she asked.

I nodded, “Yeah. If you want that.”

That was when my little princess said, “My daddy never tucked me in. He never read me a bedtime story. He never held me. You do all of that. So yes. It’s okay with me. Long as I get you, too.”

I wished with all my might I had hit that fucker harder.

Maybe one day...

One could fucking hope.

Chapter 9

Ophelia

After the accident, I winced when I realized it was five days before Christmas, and I hadn’t gotten the rest of my wrapping done.

I groaned at the thought as I waited for Soraya to walk out of school.

The moment I saw her, I frowned.

Something was wrong.

Soraya’s eyes were downcasted when she climbed into the car.

I frowned, then knowing I couldn’t ask her until we got out of the line, I drove on, all the while glancing at my girl in the back seat.

Who now had her head resting against the window, her eyes unseeing the scenery as we passed it by.

The moment we got in the driveway, I shut the car off, climbed out, then moved to help Soraya get out.

And there, I bent at the knees and asked, “What’s wrong, pumpkin’ head?”

She sighed, bit her lower lip, then moved her unicorn backpack around, opened it, reached in, and grabbed something. Then she sighed again.

What on earth?

It wasn’t until I had the paper in my hand and read it that I understood what was wrong.

That rat bastard.

That. Fucking. Rat. Bastard.

I was cursing him seven ways to Sunday when the front door opened, and Saint came walking down the steps. Well, stomping them is more like it.

A frown marred his handsome face, then anger clouded his eyes.

If I didn’t trust this man, I would have grabbed my daughter and ran.

However, I trusted him.