Page 198 of Felonies are Forever

He falls silent, a frown sliding onto his face, brows drawing together before he looks up at me.

“What is it?” I ask, coming around beside him. Then I see it.

“What the fuck is this?”

The comment is from a new account, posted just this morning, but I know who it is. You’re being naughty hiding from me. You know your little game is getting old. I’m coming. Sooner or later I’m coming. You’ll see.

I meet his eyes as he looks up from the screen, and the darkness I see there makes me draw back a little. “You get these troll accounts everywhere. I’ve blocked him before but he just makes new accounts.”

“He’s done this before? Who is he? I’ll fucking tear his limbs off.”

“I don’t know who he is.” I put a hand on his arm, trying to calm him, and hear the crack of his jaw as he shakes his head, fury bubbling just beneath the surface. “Please don’t worry about some internet troll. He can’t find me. I don’t give my actual city or any personal details. As far as anyone is concerned I could be living in Alaska a hundred miles from the nearest civilization. I only record at the home gym Carter built or inthe other empty room he turned into my dance studio. Nothing identifies where I might be.”

“You’re sure?”

I nod. “I need you to support this, Daddy. Please. I need you backing me.”

He lets out a breath through his nose, and for a long moment I think he’s going to tell me no, forbid me from posting anymore videos and possibly take me up on that Alaska suggestion.

Then he grunts. “If I ever find out who he is, I’ll bury him so deep even the worms won’t find him.”

“Thank you.” I wrap my hands around his massive forearm, leaning my head against his shoulder. “I knew you wouldn’t take this away from me. Carter would. He loves me and he wants what’s best, but…I guess sometimes I wish my mom was still around, not somewhere I’m not even sure where. If I’d shown her my TikTok, and the number of followers I have, she wouldn’t have tried to stop it. She would have tried to monetize it.”

I snort a laugh and Jack nods.

“I can understand wanting to follow your dreams. Look at me with the charter boats.” He meets my eyes, and I see a hint of pride there. “I started out with a boat that shouldn’t even have been allowed on the water. But I made it work. I’m here to help you with your dream, baby. And as for monetizing, I think we should look into that too. Do you miss your mom?”

I shrug. “I guess. I was a little pissed? Confused? When all the sudden she decided it was her turn to live her life, I guess I didn’t realize I was tying her down so much. I’m glad she’s happy.”

There’s a crazy look that takes over Jack’s face, and he looks like he wants to hurt someone or break something. I know he’s not the type of man to hit a woman, but right now I’m not sure, if my mom was here, what might happen.

We talk about other things as we eat and that safe, free feeling takes deeper root. Like I’m floating and walking on pink fluffy clouds without a care in the world.

He cleans up the plates, rinsing them, but instead of turning back around when he’s done he grips the edge of the counter on locked elbows and I hear his pained sigh. The pleasure of just being near him chills and the humongous man I’ve fallen in love with feels like he’s pulling away.

“Jack…is something wrong?”

He shakes his head, finally shifting, leaning on the counter. His eyes are low and there’s a new tension in the room like a storm is coming, and I have no shelter for protection.

“Then, what is it?” I ask, then throw out my trump card. “Daddy, tell me…”

His wild eyes snap to mine as he releases a long, low, desperate breath. “I said I loved you. Earlier. I’d give ten of my lives and a king’s fortune if you’d wanted to say it back.”

Shit. Shit. Shit.

He looks wounded and I want to be the one to always be there to heal him, not to cause his pain.

“It’s too soon,” he says, nodding. “I know. I’m sorry, baby, if I made you uncomfortable. But I wasn’t lying. I had to say it. It’s been inside me for so long, like a volcano ready to erupt. I had to get it out. Had to see what you’d say. It’s okay. I understand. Look at me… I’m old, ugly… I’m not a hard-bodied boy, Layla. I’m a man, full and thick and flawed, and broken and you are stunning and youthful, smart and sexy as hell, with your life in front of you but I do love you. I’ll never take that back even if you don’t feel the same.”

The words feel like thorns in my throat. He’s hurting and I need to ease his pain, but I’m too stunned by what he’s said. How he feels. This brutal outpouring of honesty.

I open my mouth but my vocal cords clench, holding my words hostage as Jack heaves out another painful breath and starts to turn away.

I launch myself out of my chair and across the marble top of the kitchen island, trying to get to him as quickly as possible like some action hero coming to save the day.

“Ooooop!” I slide a little too far, too fast, but just before I go headlong into the floor, Jack spins, catching me around the waist and mounting me onto his chest.

“What the fuck, Prima? What are you—”

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