Page 40 of Savage

“Yeah.” I nodded. “I can do that.”

“And don’t lose your cool. You gotta play this...”

“I’ve got it, Dad.”

“I know you do.” He gave me another pat, then said, “Go get your girl.”

“Gonna do my best.”

I sent Rooster a text, then headed outside to wait for him. I felt like a bottle of nerves as I paced up and down the sidewalk. I couldn’t stop thinking about Londyn and the way she looked at me before she walked out. Something was there. I knew it in my gut. This was my one and only chance to make things right, to make her understand why I’d done the things I’d done.

I was thinking about what I would say to her when the sound of Rooster's pickup pulled me from my thoughts. A smirk crossed his face as he said, “Your carriage awaits.”

“Appreciate you coming, brother.”

“Anytime.”

I climbed inside and closed the door, then Rooster hammered down on the accelerator, squealing tires as we took off towards Londyn's parents' house. He had the windows down, letting the wind whip around us both as he drove. Sadly, I couldn't enjoy it. I was too focused on the conversation I needed to have with Londyn.

When we pulled up, I spotted two cars in the drive and hoped one of them was Londyn’s. I took a deep breath, then opened the door. Before I got out, Rooster gave me a chin lift and said, “You got this, brother.”

“Let’s hope so.”

I closed the door and made my way to the front porch. I knocked and immediately heard footsteps as they approached the door. It flew open, and Dalton greeted me with a big smile. “I know you.”

“Hey, Dalton. How’s it going?”

“Okay.” His smile faltered as he told me, “Cici had to go home.”

“Oh?” I had no idea what he was talking about, but I just went with it. “Well, maybe she’ll come back soon.”

He shook his head. “We ‘weave tomorrow.”

“Dalton!” Londyn called out. “Who’s at the door?”

Before he could answer, she stumbled into the room with one heel still on her foot and the other in her hand. Her jaw dropped when she saw me standing in the doorway. “Malcomb... what are you doing here?”

“We have a conversation to finish.”

“I’m sorry, but now isn’t a good time.” She stepped over to Dalton and ran her hand over the top of his head as she said, “Why don’t you go up to your room and finish packing?”

“But I don’t wanna go.”

“I know, sweetie, but we need to leave early in the morning. I’ve got work on Monday.”

It was clear Dalton was her kid. Maybe it was the familiar whitish-blond hair or the lopsided grin, but I couldn’t stop myself from asking, “Hey, Dalton. How old are you?”

“Fw-ore.”

“Go, Dalton,” she pushed. “I’ll be up in a minute to help.”

“Ugh,” he grumbled as he turned and started walking away. “See ya la-er, Mal-come.”

Once I was certain he was gone, I crossed my arms and asked, “So, he’s four, huh?”

“He is.”

“And he’s yours?”

---