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“Good. I also know you know that what I just said to your mom and dad does not include you. If you want to talk to me, then you can call or text me anytime you want. I know you don’t know Oz, but if you’d like to, then maybe you guys could chat with both of us, or not, that’s totally up to you.”
“I’m not sure I need another big brother, but if you have any hot friends, I’d be up for an intro,” Everly says sassily.
“I don’t think I know any single ten-year-olds,” Oz tells her gruffly.
“I’m fourteen,” Everly snarls, sounding scarily reminiscent of my growly husband.
“Still too young,” Oz hisses.
“Kids, it’s time to leave,” Bruce says, herding the kids away from us without another word.
The moment they’re gone, all the adrenaline that’s made me bold enough to yell at my entire family drains away, and I promptly fold at the waist and throw up all over the sidewalk.
20
OZ
Watching my wife puke her guts up all over the sidewalk shouldn’t be a proud moment, but oddly it is. Dragging her hair out of her face, I rub her back while she throws up again, and I try to swallow down some of the pride that is urging me to lift her into the air and spin her around.
Despite her current condition, I’m hard as a rock because my usually timid, soft-spoken wife just scolded my asshole of a father and her doormat of a mother in the most poetically brutal way. I wish I’d had a camera, because the look on both of our parents’ faces when she lost her shit and started yelling at them was fucking priceless.
In the month since she stepped off a bus and back into my life, I’ve watched her find the confidence to occasionally stand up to me when my overbearing need for control gets to be too much. But even then, she’s never raised her voice or ever been particularly forceful.
I don’t want or need her to push back against the rules I’ve enforced on her life. I love her naturally submissive personality, but I only really need that obedience to extend to me. If she wants to sass and yell at every single other human on the planet, then I’ll stand at her side and back her up. So watching her dress down her family was quite possibly the biggest turn-on ever.
Even barfing on the sidewalk, she’s still fucking sexy, and if she’d let me, I’d drag her to the nearest dark corner and fuck her till she was screaming my name. But obviously, I can’t. Right now, I need to get her away from this very public situation and take her somewhere private so I can make sure the adrenaline crash I think she’s experiencing isn’t going to turn into full-blown shock.
When it seems like she’s stopped vomiting, I gently stand her up, then lift her into my arms and carry her down the street until I reach Tori’s shop. Pushing open the door with my shoulder, I march straight for the kitchen, stepping behind the counter without even glancing at the guy who is serving.
“Tori, I need to use the apartment!” I shout as I enter the kitchen.
“Oh my god, is she okay?” Tori rushes to ask.
“She will be. You good with me heading up?” I ask, pausing before I start to mount the stairs.
“Of course, Nero’s up there, but just send him down if you need privacy.”
“Thanks,” I call, already halfway up the stairs.
“Yo, bro,” I shout as I step into the apartment.
“Oz?” Nero calls, stepping out of the small room Tori uses as an office.
“Hey, sorry to barge in. Tori said it was cool if we used the apartment for a bit. There was a scene on the street with our parents, and Etta got sick,” I say, striding toward the bathroom without waiting for him to agree.
The moment I picked her up, Etta buried her face into my neck, and she’s been softly inhaling the scent of my skin while she clings to me, her arms wound tightly around my neck ever since. Even though I’m worried about why she got sick, I have never felt more vital to anyone than I do now, while my wife breathes me in like I’m the only thing she needs in the world.
“I’ll be downstairs, give me a call if you need anything,” Nero shouts as I close the bathroom door, shutting us in.
Peeling her arms from around my neck, I slowly place her down on the small countertop, spreading her legs and positioning myself between them. “Etta, look at me.”
Slowly lifting her chin, she looks up at me through wide, shell-shocked eyes.
Pinching her chin between my finger and thumb, I inhale sharply. “I am so fucking proud of you,” I growl.
“Why?” she croaks weakly, all of the fire and sass gone for now.
“Because you were fucking amazing back there.”
