Page 39 of Talk Wicked to Me

“I know a ride clears your head, but maybe you should go for a run first to work off that edge. You might be hot, but if you walk into the bar looking like you’re spitting nails, women are going to run in the opposite direction.”

“Like I give a fuck.”

He headed out to the parking lot and climbed onto his bike. The roar of the engine brought a rush of adrenaline. He drove off their property and cranked up his speed. Wind whipped against his skin, and the world sped by in blurs of color. The connection to the open road that had always set him free pounded through his veins, but his veins felt blocked, refusing to let it breathe. When the fork in the road came into view—the right leading to the highway and hours of open road, the left to the woman who had burrowed so deep, thoughts of her infiltrated his every breath—he gripped the handlebars tighter.

Fuck it.

He opened the throttle and leaned into the curve.

Chapter Twelve

BRENNAN’S CRIES PIERCED the air.

“Shh. It’s okay,” Emerson said for the millionth time, wearing a path in the hardwood floor as she bounced him on her shoulder and patted his back.

He’d been fussy on and off all day. If she wasn’t nursing him, she was changing his diaper or trying to soothe him. She’d tried singing to him, laying him across her lap, gently bouncing him as she rubbed his back. She’d swaddled him tightly and had even tried distracting him with a rattle and a stuffy. She’d taken his temperature, and he didn’t have a fever, which was a relief. She’d scoured the internet and had followed every reasonable suggestion, but nothing helped. At her wit’s end, she’d finally called Gwen. Her bestie had searched the internet for ideas, too, but she hadn’t found anything new, so Gwen had called her mother to ask for advice.

Asking Odette Vasiliou for parenting advice was like asking a duck how to roller skate. She wasn’t a very hands-on parent. Gwen’s mother’s sage advice was that parenting was hard and babies cried. She suggested Emerson do her best to grin and bear it and said he would eventually wear himself out.

The fact that she’d used the word grin proved how little time she’d spent with an inconsolable baby. Brennan’s shaky cries were breaking Emerson’s heart. She was so exhausted, she felt lightheaded and crampy, and on top of that, her milk had come in, and every time he cried, her body responded like a faucet, which made her feel like a cow.

A weeping cow. She kept tearing up, which wasn’t helping her baby’s mood.

What good was knowing she’d go to the ends of the earth for her son if she couldn’t even figure out how to get him to stop crying?

“I’m sorry, Brennan,” she said through her tears. “I’ll figure this out.”

What if she couldn’t? What if she was destined to be the most incapable mother on earth, and this was her best? Would this be all her baby had to look forward to?

No. She wouldn’t let that happen.

Brennan wailed.

“Shh.” She patted his back. “I know, Bren. I know.” She looked up at the ceiling, desperate to ease his discomfort. Please help him feel better. I’ll do anything. If he’s in pain, give it to me. That brought a wave of panic. What if she’d done something wrong? What if she’d somehow accidentally hurt him or eaten something that had given him a stomachache? She’d only had cereal for breakfast and a few bites of a peanut butter sandwich around lunchtime. She hadn’t even taken the time to put jelly on it. She’d read about all the foods to avoid when nursing, and peanut butter was not one of them.

She closed her eyes against a surge of tears, wishing her mother or father were there. They would know what to do for him. They’d always known how to make her feel better. She squeezed her eyes tighter, trying to force her tears to stop. The roar of a motorcycle broke through her misery, and her eyes flew open as it pulled into her driveway. A river of tears flooded her cheeks as the engine silenced, and she watched black boots hit the pavement as a man climbed off the bike, his powerful movements striking a familiar chord. He took off his helmet, and Baz’s handsome face came into view. Her heart soared with relief, but as Brennan wailed, she instantly deflated.

She didn’t want Baz thinking she couldn’t handle parenting, even if she was having a horrible day and seriously questioning herself at the moment. Swiping futilely at her tears, she tried to regain control as he strode toward the front door. Their eyes connected through the window, and he lifted his chin in greeting, jaw tightening.

Shitshitshit. He’d probably heard Brennan’s cries through the glass. She turned away, squeezing her eyes closed, forcing her tears to stop. Bouncing Brennan on her shoulder, she swiped at her wet cheeks and took a few deep breaths before opening the door, doing her best to act normal despite her baby’s heart-shattering cries and the black hole the loss of her parents had left inside her.

“Baz, it’s really not a good time.” There was no missing the shakiness of her voice.

His gaze moved over her face, eyes narrowing. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“Nothing. We’re fine. He’s just…” She pressed her lips together, futilely trying to lock down a sob.

He stepped inside and slid an arm around her, pulling her and Brennan into him. “It’s okay, Em. Whatever it is, it’s going to be okay.”

His calm confidence, and the feeling of safety he brought her, broke the dam, and a slur of sobs and words flooded out. “No, it’s not. I can’t get him to stop crying. I’ve tried everything. I’m doing something wrong, but you don’t have to be here. I’ll figure it out somehow.”

“I’m sure you’re not doing anything wrong, and I’m not going anywhere. Can I hold him?”

There was no stopping her tears or the thickening of her throat, making it hard to speak. She didn’t want to be more of a burden on him, but her baby was at his wit’s end, too, so she gave in, managing a nod.

He closed the door and took Brennan, cradling him in his arm. “Shh, little man. Everything’s going to be okay. How long has he been like this?”

“On and off all day.” She sniffled, trying to rein in her tears as Baz’s serious gaze moved over Brennan.