Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 64751 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64751 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
And it’s for a good cause.
Do I dare?
A – Count me in!
B – OH! That is amazing. I can’t wait!
Tucking my phone away, my heart feels a little lighter as I begin my lesson with the class. Hope approaches the desk midway through, and she looks as though she wants to tell me something. Stopping what I’m doing, I offer her a smile. “Is everything okay? Do you need to use the bathroom?”
Shaking her head, she bites her lower lip and looks as though she wants to say something but she isn’t sure if she should. I want to be her safe space, so I offer a warm smile and wait for her to speak. Eventually, in a low voice, she tells me, “Uncle Fury has a lot of friends.”
Narrowing my eyes, I’m confused as to what it is she’s getting at. Does she mean the club? Because of course there are a lot of people involved in that.
“Well, Uncle Fury is part of a motorcycle club, honey. Those men are like his family.”
That’s a good explanation, right?
“No,” she says as she shakes her head, “I mean he has lots of friends at home. Girlfriends.”
Oh.
Ohhh.
Clearing my throat, I try to figure out the best way to approach the situation that isn’t giving away too much information on the subject. She’s way too young to be exposed to Fury having multiple women over. I could throttle that man sometimes because he really has no idea what he’s doing. I also can’t blame him entirely, for the exact same reason. Men aren’t the smartest when it comes to raising kids alone, not at first, anyway.
Especially when they’ve never been around children.
How do I explain this?
“Maybe Uncle Fury just has a lot of girls that are friends,” I offer.
Hope ponders this. “They always go into his bedroom. Last night, I went in to ask for water and one of them was sitting on his lap.”
My cheeks burn because I know for damned certain she was not sitting on his lap. I could throttle him. What the hell is he doing sleeping around with a little girl in the house? Does he have no brain? Squashing my anger down, I smile at Hope. “Maybe Uncle Fury was having a bad day. I’ll have a chat with him, okay?”
She nods, seemingly pleased with my answer, then she returns back to her desk.
I am taking her home this afternoon, because apparently Fury won’t make it on time, but I’m beginning to wonder if he’s just very good at using me. The fact is, he is probably not busy at all, instead he’s likely balls deep in a woman and too lazy to come and get his niece. I know it shouldn’t get to me as much as it is, but for the rest of the day, it’s all that plays on my mind.
By the time I arrive at Myla’s place to drop Hope off, I’m fuming.
I want to reach out and slap him, to shake some sense into him, to make him understand that he can’t behave this way when he has a child around. What is he thinking? He has all day to play around with his women, why the hell would he bring them around when Hope is home?
Hope rushes inside, excited to help Myla with some afternoon baking. She tells me that every day, they bake something together. It warms my heart to know these women are making such a big effort for her, because right now, she needs it more than they could ever possibly imagine.
“Girl, you look pissed,” Acacia approaches me, standing by the car. “Everything okay?”
“Hope saw Fury having sex,” I tell her through gritted teeth. “I’m not certain if he has lost a few brain cells, or if he really doesn’t care, but surely he can be a little more careful.”
Acacia scrunches up her nose. “Ugh. Bikers are seriously fucking selfish sometimes. He is on his way back, are you going to wait for him?”
“Oh, I’m waiting alright,” I mutter, crossing my arms.
Acacia laughs. “Do you want a drink while you wait?”
“I’m okay.” I offer her a smile. “Thanks.”
She grins and turns, walking back into the house.
I don’t move; I wait until the low rumble of the bike coming down the driveway fills my ears, and the moment I see him come into view, I push off my car and stand, arms crossed over my chest. I’m pissed, probably irrationally so, but I need someone to take this pent-up frustration out on.
Fury kicks the stand on the bike and throws his leg over, his eyes narrowing in on me as he strides in my direction, all decked out in black leather, his chiseled face catching the shimmer of the sun as he moves. God dammit, why does he have to look like a fucking God? It makes everything inside me feel almost desperate, hungry even. I don’t understand this feeling, but I know that when Fury is around, every inch of me goes on high alert.