Page 12 of Riding Hard

NINE

LOOT

Cade shuffles toward me, stopping only when he collides with my body. He’s been keeping his shit wrapped up tight, but right now, in the haze of sleep after the night we had, it’s obvious that he’s a kid.

Curling my arms around him, I hold him close, probably too close, but I don’t care. He’s my baby, and he’s been through some shit. I want him to be able to shed that shit, the toughness that he’s had to put on, the face he’s had to wear.

It’s done now.

And even though it isn’t done yet, not really, it is for him. It’s done for him because I say it is.

“You hungry?” I ask.

He tilts his head back, his gaze finding mine, and I watch his sleepy face. His lips curve up into a grin. My eyes search his, and for a moment, I see a glimpse of the carefree boy, but then the realization of life slams down on him, and the shadow reappears behind his eyes. I wish I could take that away permanently.

“Pancakes?” he squeaks.

I can’t help but let out a chuckle. “Pancakes,” I confirm. I would make him pancakes every fucking day for the rest of his life if that’s what he wanted. I would do anything for him. “Chocolate chips or blueberries?”

Cade wrinkles his nose, as if I should know exactly what his choice will be, and I do, but I want to hear him say it. And while I would love for him to choose blueberries because I’m sure that’s a hell of a lot healthier, I know exactly what he will choose.

“Chocolate chips,” he states.

It’s always his choice. I’ve never met anyone who loves chocolate chips as much as this kid. “Then chocolate chips it is.”

I make my way to the kitchen and get started. Grabbing the griddle, I plop some butter on there while I prepare the mix. It doesn’t take me long to make them, mainly because I’ve made Cade so many pancakes over the years that I could do this shit in my sleep.

When they’re ready, we sit down at the small table that I bought a few years ago. It’s sturdy, even if it’s old. We each have a juice, I have a coffee, and then we both have pancakes and syrup.

Always syrup. A full sugar bomb.

We eat in silence for a few moments. When he’s almost finished, shoving another bite of the sticky goodness into his mouth, only a few bites left on his plate, he drops a bombshell on me. My spine straightens at his words.

“Mom doesn’t make breakfast for me. Only for her boyfriends.”

“Her boyfriends?”

My entire body tenses at the words. I don’t give a fuck that Destinee dates. That’s not what has my spine lightning-rod straight. No, it’s because I know they aren’t her boyfriends, but more likely they’re tricks, and she’s been bringing them around my son.

“Her boyfriends,” he confirms with a single nod.

I watch him for a moment, wondering how I’m going to ask him what he means without losing my shit. Clearing my throat, I stab my fork into my blueberry pancakes, picking up a triangle before shoving it into my mouth so I don’t start shouting and talking shit about Destinee.

“She always has guys over,” he says with a shrug. “They usually walk around naked.”

Okay.

Cool, calm, and collected is done.

I am now officially beyond pissed the fuck off.

“What the fuck do you mean they walk around naked?” I demand in a hiss.

He shrugs a shoulder, shoving some pancake in his mouth, as if it’s no big deal. I watch as he chews, my mind spinning a million miles an hour. I’m ready to find every single one of these men and gut them… slowly.

Destinee will never walk away from this. I’m going to find her. And I’m going to kill her. I let this shit go on for too long, and it’s on me, but it’s also on her. She will pay for what she’s done.

“Okay,” I say.