Page 67 of Ringer's Freedom

Even though I’ve been dreading it, it’s just the thing I need to distract me from worrying about how the talk with Ringer and his family is going. That and, let's be honest, the anxiety from the fact that I got fucking married to Ringer this weekend.

It takes me two hours to finish one order that should’ve taken thirty minutes, but I can’t stop thinking of everyone’s reactions and what they would say.

It’s no one’s business but ours, but I can’t lie and say I’m not scared shitless of the judgment from some that will come with the news of our nuptials.

I zone out, staring at the bulletin board hanging on the wall behind my desk, when the vibration of my phone against the wooden desk scares me out of my stupor.

Pressing accept and then the speaker function, I put the phone back on the desk in front of me. “Hello?”

“Hey, wifey,” Ringer’s playful tone filters through the speaker, causing butterflies to erupt in my belly. When my mind finally catches up with my environment, with my wide-open office door and Allison not far from it, I fiercely stab the volume down button on the side of my phone.

“What’s up?” I lean back in my chair, blowing air through my lips to clear the hair from my face.

“Currently? Laying on the floor, staring at the ceiling,” he chuckles.

“That sounds boring,” I let a small laugh slip, even though my nerves are on fire waiting for him to spill the news of how his talk went.

“Eh. I’ve had enough excitement for one weekend.” He clears his throat before continuing, “How’d your dad take the news?”

“Surprisingly well, believe it or not.”

“Seriously?”

“Yep,” I pop my lips on the ‘p.’ “He was obviously bummed that he wasn’t there, but I think he’ll let you live.”

“Fuck, I was honestly more worried about him more than my own damn family.” I immediately pick up the sadness in his tone and sit up a little straighter in my chair.

“Does that mean Bones and Ghost didn’t take it very well?”

“Dad took it just fine, said he could never imagine a better daughter-in-law. It’s my brother who’s a fucking prick.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Ringer grunts, clearing his throat. “He broke into a whole lecture about me just getting out of prison and all that shit like I don’t fucking know I just spent eight fucking years there. Anyways, he just needs time to come around.”

Out of everyone, Ghost is the last person I anticipated having a problem with this. I’ve always looked at him like a big brother. I hope he isn’t mad at me.

“Are you okay?” I ask carefully.

“What, me? Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Just making sure,” I casually reply, even though I don’t believe him. Ringer has always looked up to Ghost. But then again, like my entire argument since this morning, that could’ve changed. I don’t know if Ringer feels the same about his brother as he always did because I don’t know adult Ringer.

“The main reason I called was to ask you a question. I figured you’d probably want a day or two, but when you’re ready, do you maybe want to go on a date?”

I let out a small laugh at the torture in his voice. The way he says it makes it sound like he’s afraid I’ll say no.

My cheeks start to burn as I realize my muscles are sore from smiling so much. “What’d you have in mind?”

“To be honest, I have no fucking clue,” he chuckles. “I don’t think I’ve ever been on a date.”

“Seriously?”

“I went to prison when I was 23, babe. Before that, I had no interest in dating. All I cared those days about was fucking and the club.”

A jealous mewl escapes my throat before I can stop it, and I immediately regret letting it slip.

“Hmm. Is that jealousy I hear?”

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