Page 121 of Wildest Dreams

“I’m saying it exactly as it is.”

“Tucker.” Rhyland turned to him, eyes ablaze, a war raging inside them.

Dread trickled down the back of my neck. He looked like he was about to murder Tucker. Not in a figure-of-speech kind of way. In a what-the-hell-do-we-do-with-the-body kind of way.

“You’d better get out right this minute, before I rip out your intestines and wrap them around your neck until I cut off your oxygen supply,” Rhyland said slowly, methodically, calmly, which made everything so much worse somehow.

“Okay, okay, I’m leaving!” Tucker walked backward, face red with shame.

“You’re never coming back,” Rhyland said, not asked. “I mean it, Tucker. I’m not responsible for my actions if I see you on the same street as Dylan and Gravity again.”

Tucker looked between us, shocked and annoyed. For a moment, I thought he was going to argue, but then he took another look at Rhy, thought better of it, and stomped out of my apartment.

The first thing I did was lock the door and press my back against it, heaving.

He hurt my child.

He.

Hurt.

My.

Child.

The second thing I did was break down in tears, sliding off the door and falling apart.

And the third thing?

I was put back together by Rhyland Coltridge.

DYLAN

Ping.

Ping.

Ping. Ping. Ping. Ping. Ping.

The annoying sound tapped its way into my skull like a beak in impressively quick succession. Sunrays filtered through the shutters, warming up my skin. Birds chirped outside my window.

I stretched in my bed, last night’s events slowly trickling their way back into my consciousness. Tucker hurt Gravity. I’d cried close to all night in Rhyland’s arms. Then, when I finally managed to get my shit together, he asked if he could stay over, and I said no.

Why did I say no?

Because you are falling in love with him, and sooner or later, he is going to break your heart. No part of him wantsa relationship. He’s made that very clear. And the last thing a newly minted billionaire who looks like a Greek god needs is a single mom, a toddler child who’s not his, and the baggage you come with.

This thought was punctuated by six more pings. My phone was blowing up on the nightstand. I reached to grab it and was immediately alarmed by the river of text messages that kept on flowing in real time. I saw Row’s name as well as Cal’s and Kieran’s.

Row sent an attachment.

Row sent an attachment.

Row sent an attachment.

Row: Explain??

Row: Why do you want me to commit murder, Dylan? You know I’m a family man.

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