Page 31 of Riding Free

My alarm sounds, but it’s not the one on my phone. It’s the little alarm that makes my heart skip a beat every single time she so much as whimpers. It’s Thea’s cries. She’s no doubt hungry, maybe wet, too.

Throwing my legs over the side of the bed, I sit up and let out a heavy sigh. I don’t mind the late-night wake-ups, or the early-morning ones. Reaching for my phone, I turn my alarm off so it doesn’t sound in fifteen minutes.

Standing, I walk over to the crib and stretch inside. Wrapping my arms around my sweet girl, I go about changing her diaper, then make her a bottle. I’ve got water premeasured along with formula. A little system I’ve set up on my dresser.

Thea cries in my arms, her voice becoming louder with each passing minute and with each day. Her little wails were adorable when she was a newborn, but now they tend to pierce my eardrums. I still don’t mind them. I honestly don’t mind much when it comes to her.

I make her bottle quickly, then sink down on the edge of my bed and slip the nipple in her mouth. Rocking from side to side, I look into her sweet face as she begins to drink. As I watch her, as I take her in, I see so much of Brock in her. It’s almost as if she’s morphed in front of my eyes, or maybe I just didn’t realize it before.

She looks like him, and maybe she’ll pick up some of his personality traits, too. I don’t think that would be a bad thing. I would rather she be more like him and less like me. I’m a mess. I thought I had my shit together, but I didn’t.

And I don’t.

Now I’m starting over, but with a million things going against me. When I left the first time, it was out of spite. I couldn’t fail because I felt as if coming home was not an option. It was sheer determination to be nothing like my parents. That’s not where I am now, and if I fail, I fail her, not just myself.

“What are we going to do, little one?” I ask in a whisper.

Thea doesn’t answer, but she looks up at me, and my entire body melts. My beautiful girl. My precious gift. Pinching my eyes closed, I finish feeding her, then burp her and set her back down in her crib so I can take a quick shower.

It doesn’t take me long to get ready for work, and when I walk out of her bedroom, Thea is sleeping peacefully. My mother is watching her for the day, as she’s been doing when I have a shift. It’s only been a few weeks, but I have a feeling I’m going to need to look for an alternative at some point.

My parents aren’t going to be so accommodating much longer.

Especially if I continue with Brock and I think that is the right path, no matter who he is. My parents told me just how scary he is, how evil and dangerous his group is. That he’s a criminal, and they would make sure I got full custody and child support for the next eighteen years.

But I don’t want that.

Walking toward the back door that leads out to my car, I stop at the sight of my mother sitting at the kitchen breakfast table. She’s got a cup of coffee in one hand and her phone in the other. I don’t ask her what she’s doing, just make my way toward the door, stopping when I reach out for the knob.

“Thanks for watching Thea. Hopefully, I’ll be back before dinner.”

“I don’t love these early mornings, but I know you have to do what you have to do,” she murmurs.

“Mom?” I call out.

Slowly, she turns her head, her eyes slowly lifting to meet mine, and her lips curve up into a small smile. “I’d never admit it in front of your father. But he’s handsome, that man you’ve taken up with.”

“Mom?” I ask again.

She shrugs a shoulder, sets her phone down, and lifts her cup to her lips. She doesn’t take a sip immediately. Instead, she watches me over her mug. When she speaks, I’m not sure if I’m hearing her correctly.

“I, too, took a walk on the wild side many years ago, Keely. It felt freeing, amazing even, but I did not ruin my life. You may dance on the wild side, but you do not create a future with it.”

“Understood,” I whisper before I turn the doorknob and slip out of the house.

I slide into my car and head toward work. It’s dark as I drive to the bakery. It’s a quiet ride. I don’t bother turning on the radio or anything. I bask in the silence of the ride, my thoughts being loud enough at the moment.

Brock. My parents. Thea.

Over and over.

CHAPTER

TWENTY-FOUR

HOUND

“I thought we were only doing the collecting?” I ask.