Page 14 of Love ’em or Liam

“You expect us to believe you just appeared in her life and now you want to play family?” Butch asks.

“I’m not playing. I AM her family. And she and Keller are mine.”

chapter

seven

Liam

After Butch and Brenda had stormed off with a “this isn’t over!” threat, we’d made quick work of packing everything Wren wanted.

I hadn’t intended for us to get on the road today, but I knew as soon as we had some miles between us and the Bishops, my girl would relax some.

What the fuck kind of crazy world has she been living in the last several years? I had so many questions. Had things been different when Colt had been alive? Had he insulated her from his parents? Stood up to them?

What the hell did they even want with a gentle, sweet kid like Keller? He was the very antithesis of Colt.

I remember the Bishops being uppity and snobbish about their money. They’d liked me because I had a way of grounding Colt. He’d always been a bit of a wild child. They’d said he was precocious, but it had been more like rebelliousness than anything.

Wren was still wringing her hands in her lap as she stared out the window. The tall pine trees that lined the interstate as we crossed from Tennessee into Alabama made the road dark. I’d forgotten what these roads felt like. So much of Texas is spread out and wide where you can see miles at a time.

“I think I’m gonna find us a hotel,” I say quietly.

“You must be so tired,” she says.

In truth, I wasn’t all that tired. My mind was far too occupied for that. But they needed to rest. In an actual bed.

“I think we could all use a hot shower and a nice bed.”

“Sounds great.” Wren peeked over her shoulder to check on her son.

We drove for another hour before I turned off in Tuscaloosa. I found us a hotel and booked adjoining rooms. She was unlikely to be ready to share a bed with me, but I wanted them close.

About forty-five minutes later, I’m showered and coming out of the bathroom with a towel around my hips. Wren steps into my room from our adjoining doors, then her eyes widen.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude,” she says.

“You can’t intrude, Songbird, you’re my wife.” I go to my bag and grab a pair of boxer briefs, drop my towel, and pull them up. In the span of those actions, I hear a very distinct gasp come from Wren’s lips. I turn to face her then.

Her eyes are wide, her mouth round in a silent ‘o’. She’s wearing an oversized t-shirt that looks older than me. I don’t see any shorts or anything, but the shirt hangs down pretty low.

“Did you need something?” I ask her.

She steps closer to me. “I wanted to thank you for earlier.”

“Earlier, when?”

“You didn’t have to invite Winnie to come and live with us in Texas, but I really appreciate the gesture.”

“I was serious. Your sister is always welcome in our home. Wren, I want you to be happy.” I frown. “I’m pretty sure your life has had a considerable lack of joy and happiness these last several years. I want to make up for that.”

She gives me a sad smile. “That’s not your job.”

“No, I think it might be.”

She bites down on her bottom lip, but doesn’t turn to go back into her room.

“Did you need something else?” To busy myself so I don’t reach out and touch her the way every molecule in my body is screaming for me to do, I plug my phone in. “Remember what I told you, anything you need, you come to me.”