"Fuck yeah. I could become a monster if I let out the ugly shit inside me."
"No, you won't. It doesn't work like that. People who are monsters don't control it for so long. I'm more worried you'll cry all the time."
"Probably. Can you imagine dealing with me and a baby crying? Is this the future you want?"
"You're more than the tears, and the baby will be too. I wanted a baby when I was a teenager. Crazy shit, I know, but I wanted it. Everyone was having babies, and Mom had Cooper when she was a teenager. I tried to be rational and wait, but fuck it. I waited, and now Pop will never see his best grandkid."
Jace smiles. "You know our kid would totally be the best."
"Epic. He'll give the others self-esteem issues."
"What if it's a girl?"
"Won't be. I've always known I would have a boy first."
Staring at me with tired eyes, Jace lets his fingers caress my hip.
"I know you're from fertile stock, but what about me? My crotch could have psychological damage from all the threats you've made over the years."
"Hey, I threatened your dick, never your balls. The baby making stuff was never in any danger."
"I guess," he says, rolling on his back.
Climbing over him, I kiss his chest and belly. "We could test it again, just to be sure."
"Yeah, we could."
"Do I need to spray apple cinnamon to get you ready?" I tease, even while stroking his already hard cock.
"No, baby, I think I'll be fine."
Straddling Jace, I lean forward to kiss his waiting lips. He holds me tightly, stroking my back and ass. Nothing about him is anxious. Even after looking at his ugly past, he doesn't hide or fake anything. Jace is right here with me - heart, mind, and soul.
Chapter 34
Jace
Chug-a-Lug
Am I a different man now? Does facing my demons make me reborn? Or am I lying to myself as usual?
Who the fuck cares? I decide I am who I am and analyzing myself isn't much better than hiding from myself. I need to feel more, think less. Seems like bad advice, but being outside my head feels good. So, yeah, I'm a new man.
Walking into the Hidey-hole, I sense the change in others to my newfound freedom from over-thinking. They move out of my way faster, avoid eye contact more, and seem overall less enthusiastic to be around me. Hell, if I knew I could keep people at a distance just by being me, I'd have embraced my inner asshole years ago.
Sawyer walks with me, but her head is somewhere else. I'm guessing Ellsberg. Stubborn to a fault, she refuses to admit she's homesick. A part of her really does think starting over in Last Dollar is her future. A bigger part knows everyone she loves besides me is back in her hometown. For her to accept what her heart wants, she'll need an out.
I'll be the one to give it to her, but not today. She isn't ready to admit her mistakes. Not when she's embracing our new reality. Sawyer needs the world to work by very specific rules. Rule number one is she might not always be right, but she's never wrong.
Her hair having blown loose during the ride, Sawyer struggles to corral all her curls back into the ponytail. Catching me watching her, she smiles.
I don't return her smile, yet Sawyer knows I want her. Empowered by this knowledge, she returns to fixing her hair. I'm glad her eyes are off me. Nine months without her touch has made me crazy with need.
Of course, horny isn't the right mood when I'm about to meet with a killer. I need to dig deep into myself to find the ugliness that makes me scary. Lawman is a threat, so I'll have to wait to nuzzle my lips in Sawyer's wild hair.
My expectations for Lawman are all wrong. I imagine a huge guy like Saint or a cold bastard like Judd. At the very least, he should own the room like Cooper. Instead, I'm presented with a cowboy standing at the doorway.
Packing a gun at his hip and a rifle on his back, Lawman is plenty big enough. He even has Cooper's blond hair and dark eyes. I think his smile throws me off. No badass should smile so easily.
Removing his wide beige cowboy hat, he places it gently on a chair before taking a seat across from me.
"Do I call you Lawman, or do you have a real name?" I ask.
Lawman shows no fear at my growl, yet flinches the minute Colbie howls his name. He sighs, clearly resigned to her annoying habit.
"Lawman is fine," he says, taking the shot of scotch the perky blonde waitress brings him. "This is more a formality than a genuine meeting. The McLaughlins explained very clearly why you're here."
"So why have this chat?"
As I make idle conversation, I force myself to imagine this man putting a gun to Sawyer's head. I immediately hate Lawman, just enough for him to feel the change in me. I sense a shift in him too. We're no longer two men shooting the shit. We're killers holding our ground.
"I don't know how things run in Kentucky, but I'm assuming you suffer from a lower turnover rate than we do around here. Between the cartels and the various criminal groups, we're in a constant state of flux."