Page 93 of Wasp

“You said when I was ready—” Dillon faced me.

“And are you ready?” I wanted to know. “You can have more time. There’s no rush.”

“I’m almost seventeen, mom.” He reached up to caress my cheek. “I’d have to be a moron to not see that you’re my mom now. So, I’ve decided.”

The happiness filled every part of me then threatened to burst from my chest. Without being able to stop myself, I hugged him—kissed the right side of his face then the left side.

“Aww, mom!” He whined.

He happily hugged me back.

But I knew that happiness wasn’t to last as my father and brother stepped through the door. Brady immediately grabbed a glass of wine and downed the entire thing.

My father smacked the back of his head.

Brady simply stepped away from my father, grabbed another glass and sipped.

“Mom?” Dillon asked. “Are you okay?”

Though I smiled at him, I wrapped an arm around his shoulder and turned him away from my father and brother.

“Yeah.” I replied, my voice cracking. “Let’s go find your father.”

But though I told Dillon I was fine, a knot was slowly forming into my chest—squeezing tighter and tighter until I could barely breathe. When we did find Carter, my knees gave out and I fell against his chest.

“What’s wrong, Goddess?” He asked, concern rich in his voice.

“Everything was fine—then this.” Dillon explained.

“I’ll take her into the hall,” Carter explained. “Get her a bottle of water.”

“Okay.” Dillon replied.

Once we were alone, Carter led me out into a hallway where it was quiet. He sat me into one of the plush, deep red chairs then sat to ease me against his chest.

“My father and brother are here.” I confessed. “They’re going to ruin my evening and I can’t—I can’t deal with that.”

“Your father—wait, is Ezra Lipson your father?”

I nodded.

“He will have to learn a very hard lesson, Goddess.” Carter growled. “When it comes to the Rambo-esque stuff, I leave that to you. But in this world, I can bury him.”

I blushed and hung my head.

“Goddess, do you not think you deserve to be here?” He asked.

“I don’t know.”

“You have your own business.” He explained. “You are standing on your own two feet. You’re making your own money and you have a step-son—”

“Son.” I corrected, sitting back.

He caressed my cheeks as he arched a brow.

“Dillon called me mom.” I beamed.

“Oh?” Carter gasped. “And you’re okay with that?”

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