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she worked with today and how one of them had been extremely snooty toward her.

“You know there’s a boy in her class that reminds me so much of you,” she says nonchalantly.

“What?” I ask, tensing at her comment.

“There’s a boy in Miss Marshall’s fifth-grade class, and he looks so much like you. Same hair and eyes,” she states, not sensing the anger starting to show itself.

“You’re not suggesting this kid could be mine because I sure as fuck don’t have any,” I growl. “I’ve always made sure that shit didn’t happen with women I’ve fucked in the past.” I don’t miss Alison flinch, but right now, I don’t give a fuck. “I’m not ever having kids. Had one once and that shit went to hell. Didn’t even get to hold the kid or see him before I put him and his mother in their graves,” I snarl, coming to my feet.

Unable to stand it any longer, I shake my head. “I’ll be back later. But don’t ever bring up even the thought of having a kid with me or of one looking like me,” I snarl and head for the door without looking back.

I know what I said is harsh and right now, I don’t give a fuck. Getting in my car, I peel out of the driveway and down the road, speeding through the streets, not worrying about a damn thing. I don’t know where I’m going but it seems my body does as it takes me through the gates of the cemetery and to the section Michelle and our son are buried.

I get out of the car, still leaving it running, and walk over to their graves. I don’t speak or even look to Michelle’s headstone. I’ve come to peace with her not being the one for me. I did this during the two weeks of being alone with Alison down in Frisco for our honeymoon. I learned my wife is nothing like I thought she would be and had been made for me.

It’s a jerk move what I did to her leaving the way I did, but it guts me to think of my son and her mentioning that child triggered something inside me.

Squatting down in front of my son’s tiny headstone, I brush my fingers over it as thoughts wash over me. How I never got to hold my son. Not even once. Thoughts of how I’d held Liam for the first time and that I should have been able to do this even if it were once while I said goodbye to him in death.

A thought comes to mind and I pull out my phone. Unlocking the screen, I find the number of the one person I’m sure can help me find the answers I need.

I put the phone to my ear after hitting send and wait for him to answer.

“This better be good. We just got the baby down for a nap and you know what that means,” Gadget growls when he answers. He and his brother share an ol’ lady who just had their fourth kid about two months ago.

“Wouldn’t call you if it weren’t important,” I mutter, not taking my eyes off my son’s name.

“What is it?” he demands.

“Need you to do something for me. Ten years ago, a pregnant woman was shot during a robbery. She died at the hospital and so did the baby. Need you to look into this further for me,” I state.

“Wanna explain to me why?” I knew this would be asked.

“Woman had been my wife; kid is my son. I want to know if I’ve been lied to and my son is still alive,” I say and go on to tell him about the boy who she claimed was the spitting image of myself.

“Got it. I’ll find out,” Gadget declares and disconnects.

I pull the phone from my ear and nod.

I’ll find answers and I’ll make shit right with my wife. I just need to be rational and not let my temper fly while explaining things about my dead wife and supposedly dead son. Once I do this, I know she’ll understand the reason I reacted the way I did and will forgive me.

I didn’t mean to fuckin’ hurt her but it guts me thinking of having a kid and the possibilities are high in that department. All because for the first time in ten years, I’ve not worn a condom when inside a woman, and I don’t want to. I also know it’s a possibility since my wife isn’t on birth control.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Motherfuckin’ A.

If she ends up pregnant and something happens to her and the kid, I don’t know what I’d do. I’m not sure I could survive it this time around. Not when my heart and soul are entwined with hers. I’ll end up in the ground next to her before going on breathing. That’s how much she means to me.

Chapter Sixteen

Alison

Waking up in Mitch’s arms is the last thing I thought I’d feel this morning when I fell asleep last night. Actually, I went to bed in one of the spare rooms, wanting to give him his space.

But here I am, waking up in our bed with my husband holding me to his chest as he sleeps soundly. Last night he’d hurt me with his words but at the same time hearing him clearly. I understand his pain and now know the answer to the question of who the woman in the picture he has is. It was his wife and she’d been pregnant when she died.

My heart hurt for him, but it also ached for me due to his harsh words.

He doesn’t want children and I’ve always wanted them.

Always.

It’s the one thing I knew all my life that even if I had a husband that didn’t love me, I’d always have a child to love and adore. The thought of not having one with Mitch hurts me.

Without making a sound, I slowly slide out of bed doing my best not to

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