Page 66 of Filthy Devil

We’ve already had the me leaving and manipulating conversation ad nauseam. I’m staying beside him and hopefully building a life with him. That’s not what this is about. That conversation is a moot point.

“I’m not going anywhere because I love him. But I know that my presence and who I am are an issue.”

Elvis shakes his head once then leans forward, placing his palms flat on the table, and as I look at his strong fingers, I realize there is a lot more than his eyes that match his father’s. They have the same hands, too. I hope that my sons’ look exactly like them.

“James,” he begins, “if he thought you being an old lady was going to be an issue, he would not have made you one. It’s as simple as that. You’re family. You’ve been family. And that’s just the way it fuckin’ is.”

Shawn exhales a deep breath then stands from the table. “Welp,” she quips, “one big happy family. I bet you could use some food.”

Just thinking about food causes my stomach to grumble, but I have a whole other issue aside from food, too… I have nothing to wear, and I haven’t showered in two days. But I suppose food is first, and when my stomach makes another noise, it tells me that is exactly what I need.

“Let me help,” I say as I start to stand.

She shakes her head, her smile so freaking pretty that it’s contagious. “You’ve been at that hospital for two days. Go ahead and take a nice long relaxing shower, and by the time you’re done, it’ll be ready.”

Slipping my tongue out, I wet my bottom lip as I stand to my feet, then I begin to move toward the master bedroom, where Nash is sleeping. As I reach for the handle of the door, Shawn calls out my name.

I look over my shoulder at her. Her eyes find mine, her kind smile still in place. “I bought you some necessities. I know everything you had was lost in the fire. They’re in the bathroom.”

My heart fills to almost bursting as I watch her for a moment in silence. Really, I’m just trying to gather my composure so that I don’t burst into tears. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I blink the tears away and give her a shaky smile of my own.

“Thank you, Shawn… so much.”

She winks. “What’s family for?” she asks.

I’m not sure what else to say, and thankfully, she doesn’t wait for even a second longer. She turns and moves toward the kitchen. I flick my attention toward Elvis. He is grinning like a fool, which makes my shaky smirk turn into a smile.

Breaking eye contact with him, I push the bedroom door open just enough for me to slip inside. When I close the doorbehind me, I stand in place, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the darkness of the room.

Trying to be as quiet as possible, I move toward the bathroom, closing the door behind me before I turn on the light. I take a moment to take in the space around me and suck in a breath at the sight of this bathroom.

It’s gorgeous.

There is a freestanding tub inside of the shower—inside. The tile is also amazing. It’s all white with gray marbling, and a deep, dark-gray grout brings it all together perfectly.

The floor in the shower is black tile with black grout, and the vanity is another showstopper. A dark-gray cabinet with a white solid surface that is cool to the touch, so I assume it’s a type of rock or granite. It’s stunning, with square sinks and black faucets. The mirror is framed in thick black.

I love absolutely everything about this space. I want to know what the rest of the house looks like. I didn’t pay attention earlier, and I wish I had, but I was too focused on the conversation and on Nash.

I move toward the shower, and my eyes catch five bags on the floor. There are three plastic bags from a superstore and then two department store paper bags with thick black handles.

Sinking down to my knees, I start to go through the bags, and tears instantly prick the backs of my eyes. There are toiletries in the plastic bags, but in the paper ones, there are clothes. Panties, leggings, shirts, and even pajama shorts. Shawn definitely needs a hug, a big one, because she really did the most here. I am beyond grateful because she didn’t have to.

And that’s when it hits me.

None of these people had to do anything.

Nash didn’t have to rescue me. He didn’t have to be nice to me or treat me any kind of way at all. He didn’t have to careabout me. Tommy G didn’t have to talk to me when I was equally bored and scared out of my mind.

Elvis and Shawn didn’t have to be nice to me in any capacity. I’m a twenty-year-old girl dating Elvis’s fifty-six-year-old father. They could have been horrible to me from the jump, but all they’ve ever done is ask questions and show concern.

And the list goes on.

I am where I belong. I am with who I belong with.

I am exactly where I was always meant to be.

And I accept it all—happily.

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