Page 77 of Boy of Ruin
That’s the only thing I can hold onto. I’ll be better than mine.
But as Julie says something that I don’t pay attention to, I start to think how it doesn’t matter. I might not be a fucking father at all.
Lilith might not be pregnant anymore.
My heart cracks, thinking of it. Thinking of how she told me she wasn’t ready. Didn’t want a kid. How we couldn’t have a conversation.
How she was right.
I did everything fucking wrong.
Fuck.
I run my hands down my pants then stand, Finn’s big blue eyes still on me.
You never wanna be like me, kid.
I need to go upstairs. Need to get to the fucking coke, because my mood is crashing and I’m not ready to drive back because I haven’t discovered shit, and Mav is saying I need to find something, and he’s pissed I haven’t. Pissed that all I’ve done is hang up cameras, but what the fuck else am I supposed to do?
If I don’t get out of this house with two women that keep looking at me like they’d love nothing more than to get on their knees and suck my fucking dick…
Well, they’re going to do exactly that.
“Damn, it’s hot.” Ria stops, wiping her wrist over her brow, placing her hands on her knees as her chest heaves. Her muted orange shirt sticks to her body, damp with sweat. The sun is high overhead, heat blazing down on us and it’s only the middle of April.
I lean against a tree on the hiking trail, adjust the backpack over my shoulders.
Jeremiah takes a drink from a water bottle, smirking at the break we need. Nicolas drifts on ahead, scoping out the path. It’s crowded on the trail today, and we’ve bumped into a few people, but Nicolas insists there could be black bears out here and we need to keep our eyes peeled.
I think about the knife in my back pocket, but it doesn’t make me feel much better. Pretty sure a big ass black bear would eat my knife for lunch.
Speaking of… “I’m hungry,” I whine to Jeremiah as he pushes his water bottle in the side compartment of his backpack.
He’s standing in the middle of the dirt trail, his head cocked as he looks at me, shaking his head and rolling his eyes. His shirt is stuffed in the side pocket of his black shorts, and his abs are glistening with sweat. His skin is tan, light brown almost, waves to his damp, dark brown hair.
We haven’t spoken about last night.
I don’t even want to think about it.
I ran, I keep telling myself. He can do what he wants. It won’t work with Lucifer and I, and maybe that was exactly what I needed to see to remind me of it. Either way, today, I just want to… enjoy myself.
“You’re such a brat,” Jeremiah says as Ria straightens, headed down the path to Nicolas who is at the bottom of a steep incline. There’s a waterfall just up ahead, and we brought swimsuits. They’re in my bag, the lighter one.
Jeremiah slides one strap of his backpack down his shoulder, swings his bag around and opens up the smallest compartment, pulling out a granola bar. He zips his bag back up, adjusts the straps on his shoulders, then closes the space between us, standing directly in front of me, my back still against the tree, the backpack I’m wearing a cushion.
He uses his straight, white teeth to tear open the bar, pockets the crinkly wrapper, and he’s so close now I have to crane my neck up to meet his gaze.
I hold out my hand for the bar, but he jerks it back, out of my reach, his eyes gleaming.
“Let me feed you.”
My throat tightens with those words, my cheeks flushing pink, sweat beading along my temple, along the back of my neck.
“Jeremiah, come on,” I try, “I’m starving.” We had breakfast at a local place not far from the cabin and I filled up on pancakes and oatmeal but it’s almost lunchtime now.
Jeremiah comes as close as he can, his hand on my belly, fingers spread wide. My black tank sticks to my skin, and I feel gross and out of breath, but the way he’s looking at me, I don’t think he cares about any of that. Of course, he somehow still smells like he just stepped out of a scalding hot shower, scrubbed clean and perfect.
“Then open that pretty little mouth, baby.” His words are low, a deep rumble.
