Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 71880 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71880 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
“Baby, you gotta relax. You did nothing wrong.”
I shook my head. Joel could say that a hundred times more, and I wouldn’t believe him.
If it weren’t for me, Nicolas wouldn’t have suffered a panic attack so severe he’d almost passed out.
Nicky, I reminded myself. Become Instagram buddies with Crew, and he was suddenly the best thing since sliced bread. Nicolas wanted to be called Nicky.
I looked over at the little kids’ corner where Julian was playing with building blocks, and I ran a hand through my hair.
“I should’ve made sure we were alone.” I slumped down next to Joel again and scrubbed my hands over my face.
I’d just been so relieved when Mercier had called to confirm the deaths of so many Blancos, including Carillo and Gajero. I mean, we’d obviously known, but it was official and public now. The whole fucking cartel, just gone. Only Petrov remained, and he had four countries negotiating who’d get him extradited for crimes he’d committed.
Then I’d noticed Nicky entering the kitchen, and he’d asked what was going on.
I was the dumbass who’d actually answered.
“Those sorry excuses for men who hurt you and your brothers for so long are confirmed dead—their bosses too. That whole network of criminals is gone. They will never hurt anyone again.”
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
I hadn’t been thinking. I’d been high on relief, nothing else. Because in my field…I didn’t know how many times you thought you’d gotten rid of somebody, and then you found out much later that they’d either survived somehow or—if they were really high-ranking motherfuckers—sent guards in their stead to act like them, to speak for them, to be them. And in a world of coke-slinging billionaires who avoided getting caught on camera, it happened more often than most might expect.
It wouldn’t have been unheard of if Luca were really alive somewhere, in other words. Or his sons.
The only downside to their deaths was the current state of Colombia. Complete shitshow. Low-men and up-and-comers were fighting for power to fill the vacuum the Blancos had left behind. Hell, Vincente was one of them. He’d made the news last week after a politician had been murdered.
I blew out a breath and rose from my seat once more.
How long was Nicky gonna be in there for? I had to see him. I had to know if I could fix this.
I should’ve fucking known that such news would leave a mark. I should’ve known he’d been fearing more bad crap would happen—because he was so used to it. His mom dying, his dad being a piece of shit, getting fucking kidnapped…
I peered down the hall and pinched my lips together. I wasn’t gonna be the asshole who knocked on the head doctor’s door. I wasn’t.
I swallowed, folded my arms over my chest, and turned back to Joel. “You reckon we should cancel tonight?”
“Absolutely not,” he said firmly. “If anything, he’ll need tonight more than ever. You know what he responds well to after sessions and nightmares.”
He had a point. Nicolas thrived being around people, being included. At least in some capacity. He did get mentally tired after a while. That was when he retreated to his and Mattie’s room to play video games. But until he reached that point, he wanted to have fun.
My God, had I fallen for our routines. My life was finally filled with, well, life.
For Blake’s birthday, we’d spent the whole day doing things she’d wanted. We’d gone rollerblading, we’d gone to the beach, we’d visited the zoo. And the boys—they’d never experienced that. Now, Nicky and Mattie liked to go with Joel for his run every morning, only the boys donned their new rollerblades.
When I did yard work or lifted weights by the pool, they wanted to join me. When I fired up the grill, Mattie wanted to help. Every day, there was something new to do together. Play football, shoot hoops, plant vegetables, finish decorating the house, paint a wall, go get tacos, meet up with Crew, Mercier, and Jack, take Madison for her ultrasound.
I craved it all.
I craved more time with Blake too, but I reckoned I couldn’t get everything in life. The every-other-week thing sucked. Although, Piper and Joel had agreed to be flexible in the beginning. Partly to let Blake choose a bit more, partly so that Piper and Joel didn’t have to go a full week without seeing Blake.
The separation anxiety was no joke.
At long fucking last, a door opened down the hall, and I spotted Nicolas coming out.
I stalked over there, only to slow down when it hit me that he might be wary of me. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“Buddy, are you okay?” I asked carefully.
He nodded hesitantly, eyes red from crying.
The shrink stepped out too, and she smiled sympathetically. “You should hug him, Elliott.”
What? I mean—what? I could do that, of course. Of course I could, but was that—did he want that? Oh, fucking hell, I was useless. If the doctor told me to hug the kid, I was gonna hug the kid. I closed the distance between us and pulled him in for a hug. As if I wasn’t already screwed. Christ, how was I ever supposed to let him go?