My Wicked Heart (Wicked Poison 2)

“Yes, I am.”

Head, meet gun.

Boom.

Wowser.

While I regain my composure, I think about how much I struggled to move on when he did it so easily. It’s unfair when I think about it.

“Is she here?” I ask, trying to keep my voice neutral.

“No, she’s back home.” Wow. Umm, okay. “She won’t meet her until you’re comfortable,” he says.

“Sure.” I nod.

We sit there, in an awkward silence, both of us simply staring at each other.

“I think if we just keep this about Winter, we should be able to do this,” I say as my phone lights up and Holden’s name pops on my screen once again.

“I think that man is trying to reach you.”

I nod, reaching for my phone. “Holden,” I answer. “Can I call you back? I’m busy right now.”

“Yes, okay, can do. I just wanted to see if you would meet me for dinner this week.”

‘“I…” August is watching me, so continue with, “…would love to. Let me call you back later, okay?”

“Your boyfriend?” he asks.

“I don’t know.” I stand, tucking my phone in my bag. “I get home around five, bathe Winter, and we have dinner. If you want, come over after that. We can take it slow and see how she does.” I don’t give him a chance to respond as I turn and walk out of there as fast as possible. I run across the street, and as soon as I am in my building, I walk to the bathroom, close the door, and sit on the toilet as tears stream from my eyes.

I had hoped if he ever came back, it would be for me.

I was wrong.

So wrong.

“We have a visitor coming over today. Are you excited?” I ask Winter as she gets dressed in her pajamas.

The doorbell rings, and she smiles big. “Can I get it?”

I nod and follow her out of the room to the door. When she pulls it open, August stands there dressed in jeans and a nice white shirt that hugs his body. He looks good, almost better than he did five years ago. How is that even fair?

“Hello, Winter, I brought you something,” he says to her, holding out a small bouquet of flowers.

She takes them and runs back to me. “Look, Mom, look … flowers like you get from Holden.” I nod, smiling, and when I look up at August, his eyes are flint hard. I can’t quite work out that look, and I’m not sure I want to either. I guess it’s none of my business now.

“Why don’t you come in? I just ordered us some dinner. Hope you still eat Indian. It’s Winter’s favorite,” I tell him as he steps inside and shuts the door behind him.

“Yes, I do.”

“Good, have a seat.”

Winter sits at the table, and August sits next to her as I bring out plates and drinks. I get a message that the food has arrived and go retrieve it. When I turn back, I see Winter pointing at her room, telling August which one is hers.

I only pause for a second before I walk over and start serving her food, then mine, finally handing the rest to August. When he takes it, our fingers brush, and I pull back as if it didn’t affect me.

It did.

Of course, it did

Winter starts telling him all about her day. She says it with such happiness that I even get lost in the conversation. She does have that effect on people.

“And you go there all the time?” August asks, referring to her daycare.

“Yes. Next year she starts big school, don’t you, baby?” I say, smiling at her.

“I’ll be at the same school as Summer,” she says excitedly. Winter turns to me and looks at my phone. “He hasn’t called yet.” She sticks her bottom lip out in a pout, so I pick my phone up and dial my brother’s number, handing the phone to Winter. She jumps from the table and runs to her room with the phone in hand.

“Who’s she calling?”

“Beckham,” I tell him, and he nods, seeming to be more relaxed with those words.

“Are they close?” he asks, looking toward her room. We can see her sitting on her bed, holding her toy and telling Beckham all about it.

“The closest. No one could separate them.”

“Much like you two are.” I think on that for a second and then nod my head, knowing how close Beckham and I am. He’s my brother, and our affinity for each other will never be broken.

“Beckham is the only father figure she’s had. I love their bond.”

August’s eyes go hard at my words, then he squints and shakes his head. “He isn’t her father.”

“Of course, he isn’t. He’s my brother … her uncle. And, really, the only person I trust implicitly with her.”

Winter comes running out of the room and hands me the phone, I take it and stand, saying hello.