To Professor, With Love (Forbidden Men 2)

il for beating the shit out of him, will I?”

Reese swerved her attention back to me, her blue eyes wide with fear. “Will he really go to jail? For defending her?”

“Umm...” I winced and scratched the side of my neck. “He is on parole.”

“Shit,” Lowe muttered. “Fine. I’ll stay here and clean this up.” Grasping Reese’s shoulders, he spun her to face him. “I assume you’re going with Eva?”

She nodded and rose up on her toes to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. “I love you. Be careful.”

Seeing them like that immediately made me think of Aspen. The crack in my chest broke open a little wider. Slapping the roof of the car as I opened the driver’s side door, I called, “Let’s go. Time’s wasting.”

Reese hurried into the front passenger seat, and I turned the key. When the engine roared to life under me, I met Pick’s gaze in the rearview mirror.

He nodded in silent permission. “She’ll go as fast as you tell her to.”

So I put the pedal to the floor, and we screamed down the street in the direction of the nearest hospital.

Across the bucket seat from me, Lowe’s woman was silent, chewing on her fingernails as Pick murmured something every once in a while from the back to the girl curled in the fetal ball on his lap.

“What is he on parole for?” Reese finally asked me a quiet voice.

I shrugged. “Beats the hell out of me.”

She nodded and went back to biting her nails.

We made it to Ellamore General in record time. I pulled up to the emergency room entrance, and a couple orderlies came out with a wheelchair when they saw Pick drag a bloody Eva from the backseat. They swept her off, and the three of us left to wait loitered helplessly in the entrance.

Reese paced the floor, sending text after text on her phone, while Pick—his shirt and jeans a bloodstained mess—slumped in a chair and closed his eyes, his face pale and mouth drawn taut. I camped out against a nearby wall and crossed my arms over my chest.

And we waited.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

“Whatever it is you're seeking won't come in the form you're expecting.” - Haruki Murakami

~NOEL~

I opened the door of my apartment, weary and defeated. The place was quiet and made me feel extra lonely.

Reese’s cousin, Eva, had gone through an emergency C-section at the hospital, giving birth six weeks early to a four-pound, six-ounce baby girl. Mason had shown up only minutes before to report he and the baby daddy had made a deal: we wouldn’t turn Alec in for what he’d done to Eva if he didn’t turn Pick in for what Pick had done to him.

Apparently, that had worked for Alec, because Lowe said he was on his way back to Florida.

When a nurse had come out to tell Reese she could go back and see the new momma or the new baby through the window in the incubator where they’d put her, I decided it was time for me to head home. Since Pick didn’t seem willing to budge from the hospital, I made the trip on foot.

Walking helped clear my head. Hell, the entire night had cleared my head. When a catastrophe like this happened, it made a person realize what was truly important. Opening my phone, I sent another quote off to Aspen. It was one I’d had for a while, but had been saving for the right moment. Well, that moment might never come if I didn’t make it happen.

After I pushed Send, I blew out a breath and collapsed on the couch. I wanted to call and leave a voice message, just to tell her all the crazy shit that had happened tonight. I needed someone to share my day with. But I decided to wait until I could see her again. So I started to dial home and check in on Caroline, Colton, and Brandt. But I stopped myself. It was late, even in their time zone; I didn’t want to wake them for no reason.

Lying there, I stared up at the water-stained ceiling of my broken-down apartment, wondering what the hell I was doing. My family was hundreds of miles away. The woman I loved was God knew where. I felt scattered. And trapped. My goals for a college diploma and an NFL draft no longer seemed relevant. But I couldn’t leave. Not unless I wanted to destroy Aspen’s reputation.

Scrubbing my hand over my face, I felt decades older than I was.

When the door open, a spark lurched through my chest, hoping it might be her. But it was only Ten.

He paused when he saw me. His gaze uncertain and leery. “’Sup?” he hedged. “Pick already leave?”

“Yep.” I glanced at the ugly walls again. Someone seriously needed to paint this place. “How was work?”