Page 5 of Slow Burn
3
LEVI
“Christ, how can something so cute do what you just did?” I get just the smallest of coos in answer, and my chest tightens.
As she looks up at me, I forget the bomb in her diaper and the sticky mess on her face. Damn, she's fucking cute. Her pretty eyes are bright and innocent; paired that with her chubby cheeks and red curls, and she’s just the cutest nugget I ever laid eyes on. And, she’s mine.
Maybe I don’t have the proof, and lord knows taking Isabel’s word for is asking for it, but as far as that little baby is concerned, I’m her daddy. After Iz dropped her off and left smoke trails in her wake, I didn’t even question it. Maybe I should. Maybe I should ask one of the Coopers, or anyone better qualified than me, to take the little Princess.
But, the moment I held her, I knew I wanted to do right by her. Hunter might be right about me getting DNA results out, but right now, I don’t care about test results. I don’t need them.
“What we do need, Nugget, is a name for you, huh?” I talk to her as I watch the phone I’ve propped on the pillow above her. Diaper changing 101 on YouTube.
Iz left me two tiny bottles, four diapers, a half can of formula, two outfits and a folder of papers. Nothing else. No toys or pacifiers, no socks or shoes, and no idea what her name is or how old she might be.
The papers gave me some of those answers. My little nugget is three months old, born on June 17th. Those papers told me when and where she was born. They also tell me that, on paper, I am her father. Because her last name is Holt. But, her first name? Yeah, Iz didn’t bother with that. I was furious when I went through those papers and found the truth.
The little nugget came a month early, which explains Iz’ visit when I’d come home with Brynn. Already looking for someone to take over something she couldn’t handle. Since Iz couldn’t take her from the hospital till she was at least a month old, Iz tried to be a mother for barely two months. And tried is a term I use loosely since the bitch didn’t bother to name her.
“How about.... Belle? Nah too close to her name. Maybe...Ariel...nope scratch that. All Ariel’s are slut buckets, nugget. Why am I going Disney Princess anyway?” I finish with the diaper and tuck her fidgety little legs into a fresh outfit.
Last night I got just a few essentials. Things even an idiot like me knew I would need for a baby. Now, I’m headed to get the shit I didn’t know I needed. I bundle the nugget up in the tiny coat I picked up last night—it’s not cold yet but I rather be over cautious—still calling out names as I head out to my Uber.
The driver helps me get her situated in the little seat, as I mentally add one of those to my checklist. And a car. I don’t drive because I’ve never needed to. I see mothers on the L all the time with babies in strollers or carrying-deals. Taking that sweet little Princess on the same train I’ve watched people puke, fight and fuck on is out of the question.
“First weekend with her?” My helpful uber driver asks as he smiles back at us in his rear view.
“Something like that.” I nod back with a smile as I reach out to the little nugget. Like she did the first time Iz handed her to me, she smiles, clutches my thumb with her tiny fist and steals my heart.
We talk in those noises she makes until the car ride puts her to sleep. Definitely need a car. Last night was tough; the little thing was up and down, I must have fed her six times. Piglet. I smile though, because I don’t feel tired. I feel alert and alive and in a way, excited. I let her keep a hold of my hand as I text the date I had lined up for tonight.
Me:Can’t make it tonight. Sorry.
Date:Levi, baby I wanted to see you. Is it work?
Me:No. It’s another girl.I smirk at the sleeping Princess beside me, because it’s the truth.
Date:Is it Bambi? You know, she and I, we can have fun together.My eyes roll at her slutty attempt to keep me interested.
Truth is, that shit never did interest me. I mean, it was fun a few times. Certainly, helped numb the pain my fuck ups with Iz left me with. But I was never that guy. Never wanted to be like Hunter, burning myself out on pussy.
He might be my best friend—and he is even if he doesn’t say so—but he’s lucky he found someone like Lola who ignored the numbers he’d stacked up. A lot of women can’t get past that. Even Charli struggled with Cage’s past, I knew. Hunter and Finn made Cage look like a Night Guard who had taken a vow of celibacy.
I didn’t have numbers stacked up. I didn’t remember their names like Hunter did. Didn’t keep track like Cage or let them be rated like Finn. I used them to chase away the loneliness and numb the pain. It’s how Iz and I got started and how we ended.
“Careful with that one.” Hunter warned me over a year ago as I headed out of O’Malley’s pub with Isabel.
“Doubt she wants me to be too careful.” Was my pointed reply as we both looked her over.
Isabel was new to Chicago, yet had found a place at the pubs, with all the men in uniform. I’m sorry, men and women. She had no preference. By the time I met her, the badge bunnie routine was the norm with the guys from Station 71. Enough that both Hunter and Finn had been with her before me. Their warning should have been like a five-alarm bell, yet I ignored it.
Like an idiot I ignored the truth. My friends had all been with her. Done dirty shit with her, some of them at the same time. I’d actually watched her come out of the bathroom with Diggs, a cop buddy of ours, and another woman once. I knew what they had been doing. Yet, when she approached me a few months after I met her, I ate her bullshit up with a big ass spoon.
I’d just passed my final completions and was celebrating. Isabel wanted to help me celebrate. Offered to let me and Hunter tag team her. I was embarrassed by the offer, honestly. I mean, I’m a guy with a working dick and she’s hot as shit.
Shimmery copper hair, lovely face with blue eyes and fair skin. Nice ass and great tits. But, I just was never like the rest of my brothers. I didn’t want to lose myself in someone who so many others had gotten lost in before. It felt dirty. Because it is dirty.
“Not tonight, Iz.”Hunter was no saint but he knew what I was about, and he respected that.
