Page 92 of Tight End

“It’s all good. I think we have an understanding.”

Her brows draw together, and she rears back, the look she’s giving me full of disbelief. “With my mom?”

I laugh, setting the food on the table, giving her a quick kiss before sitting down. “Why is that so hard to believe? I’m pretty charming.”

She snorts a laugh, sitting next to me. “That I know. How do you think we ended up with Oliver in the first place?”

“Defective condom?”

This time when June snorts, it’s loud and garners the attention of nearly everyone at the table. “You’re going to get us in trouble.”

And also pregnant. Ah, shit. Not sure where that came from. Cart before the horse, Devlin. “Maybe that’s my plan, June bug.”

“Don’t think you won’t pay for that.” She gives me a pointed look, and I can’t wait. “Oh, before I forget, do you mind taking Oliver home? My apartment is ready for my inspection, and I figured I’d run by once I left here.”

“Not a problem.” I keep a smile on my face even though it is a problem.

A very, very big problem.

FORTY-FIVE

Ryan

I hate this.I hate every single fucking thing about this. I hate that June has gone to her apartment by herself. I hate that she’s been gone for hours. And I really hate that she had to go in the first place.

I should have manned up and asked her to stay. Fuck. I really botched this one. I can’t let her leave, but I also can’t exactly force her to stay. I’m pretty sure that’s referred to as kidnapping and is illegal in all states.

But I could have done the rational thing, the logical thing, and talked to her. Simple, I know, yet it feels so complicated.

What do I say—oh hey, how do you feel about staying here with me for the rest of your life? Remember the other day when I joked about marriage? Well, I wasn’t joking.

She’ll be flattered, right?

And then she’ll have no choice but to call her apartment complex and tell them to shove that two-bedroom right up their asses.

“Daddy, you’re missing my faborite part.” Oliver tugs at my shirt, his bottom lip jutting out. Apparently it doesn’tmatter that we’ve watched this movie at least a hundred times. I should also mention that his favorite part changes just about every time we watch it.

Still, I settle back against the couch and focus on the TV. “Sorry, my bad.”

I’m pretty sure he rolls his eyes at me, but I’m way too distracted to chastise him. What is taking her so long?

I check my phone for the hundredth time and still no calls or texts. There’s no reason to worry. I’m sure she’s busy. But dammit, I can’t help the dread sinking inside me like a lead weight. My entire body feels hollow, and I can’t sit still. I sure as hell can’t concentrate on this movie.

My phone is somehow magically unlocked—definitely not something I did on purpose—and I’m about to fire off a text when my phone rings suddenly. So suddenly it scares the fuck out of me and it flies from my hand, hitting me right in the mouth.

Fuck, that hurt.

But I can nurse my face later. This could be June.

I’m scrambling to get a handle on my phone, and I flip it over to see an unknown number. Probably a scam call, one I’d usually ignore, but there’s a little voice in the back of my mind telling me to answer.

“Hello.”

“Ryan, thank God, it’s Margaret. June’s mom.” She sounds a bit frazzled, and that has me sitting a little straighter, holding the phone a little tighter.

“What’s going on, Mrs. Morgan? Are you okay?” My tongue feels thick, my throat clogs, and that weight in the pit of my stomach gets heavier.

Her voice is muffled and a few car doors slam. “I’m fine.It’s June. The hospital just called me. She’s been in an accident.”

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