Page 30 of Finding Fate

I push deep and grab her hip so I can grind her against me. “Tell me what you want.”

She smiles. “Come in me.”

I press my lips to hers and stop, letting her have all of me—the only girl that ever has.

Nineteen

Gabby

“What do you want to do today?” Maddox asks from where he’s sitting on the edge of the bed while I sit on the floor and put a little makeup on at the small framed mirror leaned against the wall that Presley gave me.

“I thought about going back blonde today. Sayler said she’d take me to town. I thought you were going to be at work. I can cancel if you want me to.”

“Is that what you want? I like you either way.” The big smile on his face says otherwise. He always liked my blonde hair just like my dad. It’s a stark contrast to have naturally light hair with dark brown eyes. It’s more common for people to have dark hair and eyes or light hair and light eyes, or even dark hair with light eyes. Most people used to think I highlighted my hair when they first met me.

“I want to be myself. With you I am. I’m ready, but like I said, I can cancel. We’ve lost enough time. You’re more important. I thought you would be working when I decided this. I didn’t expect you to remember my birthday, especially given that it’s on a holiday.”

“I’ll never forget your birthday.” He shakes his head as he reaches in his back pocket. “But nah, go pamper yourself. I need to get your birthday present anyway. I figured we’d all go out or something tonight since you’re legal now.”

“I don’t need a birthday present. I have you.”

His mouth turns up on one side as he opens his wallet and slides out a card, handing it to me. “Nice try. Here.”

“What’s that for? I have my wallet and the cash I took from my bedroom safe at my dad’s house, which I’m looking at as payment for him taking my car. He may have sold the damn car that I paid for, but at least he left my wallet in my room when he deposited me there after kidnapping me. I grabbed it before I left. That was another reason I was going to go to town—apply for a job at a few places.”

“It’s yours. I added you as a user for my credit card. It was the easiest way to make sure you had money. You have to sign shit to get on my checking account. That’s sort of a problem, since I haven’t changed to a local bank yet. All of my stuff is direct deposit, so I haven’t really needed to. We’ll go open one next week and I’ll start changing my stuff over. The card came in the mail yesterday. Blondie handed me my mail this morning at breakfast while you were sleeping. Just use it when you need something and save the cash for emergencies. I’ll pay the bill. You can use it for your hair if you want. You used to keep your nails done like Blondie and Presley do. Do that too.”

I take it, glancing down at my name etched on the plastic. My heart swells, my emotions getting the best of me, and my eyes blur. I never asked him to do this. I haven’t made a single comment about money. He’ll always try to take care of me. “I must give it good to get plastic.”

“Gab . . .”

I clear my throat. “Thank you.”

“Gabby.” I blink before looking at him, trying not to cry. It makes me feel like a little whiny bitch, and I hate those. “Don’t do that. You’re not a charity case just because you don’t take your dad’s money anymore. This is the way it would have been when I graduated. I’ve never had any desire to go to college. From the second I knew you werethegirl, the plan was to work and take care of you. Just because people fucked up my plan for a while doesn’t mean it’s going to change. We’ll get you a car. Just give me a little time to work out what we can afford.”

I swipe the tear off my cheek. “I love you.”

“Come here.”

I lay the card on the floor by my makeup bag and get up, coming to stand between his legs. He wraps his arms around me. “What do you want to do? Do you want to go to school? If you do, we can make it work. I’d rather you pick school or a job, not both. When I’m not working, I want you with me. Until we have to move out, I can handle our shit by myself.”

I shrug. “I don’t know. I haven’t really put much thought into it. I just wanted to be out from under my dad when I graduated so he had nothing to hold over my head to control my life with. He wants me to go to college. I refused to give him anything he wanted until he gave me what I wanted, which is you. I’ve been working random dead-end jobs since. I bought an old car and left behind the expensive one he bought me after he took our son. I lived in an old rental house in a sketchy part of town that needed a lot of work with my roommate Autumn, who I met at a party. Our landlord was lazy and didn’t fix shit, but I was on my own. As long as I had my rent every month and enough to survive on, I didn’t really care about anything else.”

I inhale a breath and think for a second, wrapping my arms around his neck. “There was once when I considered seeing if I’d qualify for a grant to go to cosmetology school. The more I dyed my own hair, the more I actually kind of wanted to learn how to do it right. One of the schools back home accepts federal grants for low income applicants. At the time, I figured it was my only way to do it, but I never got brave enough to try. I think I’d like it, though. It’s something that wouldn’t take a long time to finish. I could do it anywhere and pick up and move easily should I need to with your music stuff. I could set my own hours. There are perks for you too.”

He grips my thighs and pulls me on his lap. “Oh yeah, what’s that?”

I wriggle my eyebrows. “Free haircuts.”

He starts laughing. “And here I thought you were going to say breakroom sex between clients.”

I laugh too, realizing just how content I’ve become with life in such a short amount of time. He’s the only one that makes the pain of knowing I have a child in the world bearable, because I no longer have to go through it alone. “You’re a perv.”

He kisses me and pulls my head against his large, muscular chest, softened by the fabric of his tee shirt. “As long as I’m your perv I can live with it.”

“Always, baby.” I snuggle into him, my arms circling around his waist to his lower back, the tips of my fingers brushing along the space of skin just above his jeans, not in a hurry to go anywhere.

“Figure out what you need to do to get in and we’ll work it out on paper. Don’t worry about getting a job right now,” he says, breaking the comfortable silence.

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