Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 94997 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94997 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
My mother goes to Hawke, and he pulls her in for a hug before she says, “I brought food. It’s on the table.”
“Alina, we are having a serious discussion here. Don’t distract the man with food,” Dad says, self-imploding, but we all work around him, ignoring his dramatics.
My mother can’t hide her smile, and I almost feel bad for my father as we all take a seat, trying not to snort and laugh at his reaction.
“Okay, let’s eat,” Mom announces, and Hawke wastes no time loading his plate full of food. I’m certain my mother brought over extra today because she’s well aware of how much he likes to eat. I’m not surprised that she assumed he’d be here. My father might be the tracker, but my mother has always had this… sense of knowing that I’ve never quite understood. It’s probably what my father gravitates toward because she’s the only one who can keep him in check.
My father grumbles his displeasure as he takes a seat at the table, piercing a piece of bacon as he glares at Hawke, who comfortably threads his fingers through mine and places our joined hands on the table as if to make a point. A vein in my father’s temple pulses as he glares at our hands, and I know Hawke is purposely grating on his nerves. They’ve always been like this. Maybe it was my father’s intuition that I’d always end up with Hawke.
“So it’s serious, then. Has he also moved in?” Dad asks as Hawke puts a piece of bacon into his mouth.
“No, of course not. He just stayed the night,” I say, trying ever so slightly to bring my father back from the imaginary ledge.
“I did ask you again last night to move in with me, though,” Hawke reminds me casually. My father’s eyes widen, and my mother ‘oohs’ at his words.
“I said no,” I tell my father. I don’t want him to have a heart attack.
“It’s okay. I’ll keep working on her.” Hawke stuffs his face with some bread and smiles. “She knows I’m the one for her, and I’m not letting her go.”
“Do I?” I ask, raising a brow at his cocky arrogance.
“It’s love, what can I say?” He chuckles, and I shake my head as I look away, trying to remind myself that my parents are in the room.
“I’m happy for you both,” Mom finally says as she grabs my father’s hand and squeezes it. “We both are.”
“Like fuck I am,” Dad mumbles sulkily.
Mom shakes her head, whispering, “He’ll come around.”
I’m not entirely sure if that’s true. But one thing I’m willing to bet on is if anyone is capable of wearing down my father, it’s Hawke.
CHAPTER 49
Hawke
I’m holding Ivy in my lap as we look out at the rain pouring down. I’ve never once used my back patio, and it wasn’t until she moved in a month ago that we made it a regular thing. When I’m not at work, and she’s not in what I like to call her “death dungeon,” which is basically the dark little room with an ungodly number of snacks where she works on her freelancing gigs, this is where you can find us.
I couldn’t be prouder of my woman. She works fucking hard, and I wonder how many people might’ve been thrown off by her party-girl persona. She still enjoys partying, but without drinking now. I’ve followed suit because I don’t need the buzz or thrill, not while I have her by my side. And I have no intention of letting her go.
I press a kiss to her temple. Those short little shorts she’s got on killing me. I swear she has a matching set in every color, and she uses them to keep me in a continuous state of needing to fuck her. And I just fucked her thirty minutes ago.
“What?” Ivy asks, looking at me skeptically. I don’t know how I’m looking at her right now, but it’s probably like I’m a big, smitten asshole.
I raise my gaze back to the rain, having a new appreciation for it. I never cared for this kind of shit before. When I was a kid and it rained, it was bad because Ford and I had to find shelter for the night. But with Ivy, it’s a beautiful thing.
“I was just thinking about how nice it is that you’ve moved in without me having to throw you over my shoulder, kicking and screaming.”
She scoffs. “Well, living in a five-bedroom home by yourself is a little excessive. And I can go back to my apartment any time I want, so don’t give me a good enough reason to leave.”
I chuckle as I tickle her ribs, and she flails back and forth. I receive an elbow to the nose, which, to be fair, I should’ve been expecting. I laugh, swearing I taste blood.