know for sure they were okay. Five missed calls from Bobbi Jo. Three from Brianna. Two from Luke, and four from Maggie.
Lucas stepped into the room and shut the door, then sat in the chair opposite Logan. “The fire department is still there battling the blaze. It sounds bad, bro, but it’s just a house and things. The kids are fine. Their mother is fine. That’s all that matters.”
“You’re right,” Logan said while numbly nodding his agreement. “I can’t believe the one time I silence my phone this happens.” He glanced around the room, cataloging his scattered belongings, mentally calculating the length of time it would take to pack and get on the road.
And then his gaze landed on Lizbeth, still wrapped in the sheet, standing by the door, her full lips drawn with the weight of her concern.
He squeezed his eyes shut as pain ripped through his chest. He promised her he wouldn’t go anywhere this time, yet here he was trying to figure out how long it would take to get his things and run out the door. Rage and frustration built in his throat to the point he feared he might explode.
“You should call and talk to the kids so you can hear for yourself they’re okay.” Her voice was close, and he opened his eyes to find her kneeling in front of him.
God, he loved this woman more than she would ever know. And how could she possibly know the depths of his feelings when life kept throwing shit at him and pulling him away.
But how could he not go to his children who needed him?
“Yeah… yeah… I guess I need to call Bobbi Jo first, though.” He looked at Lucas. “What did you tell her?”
He didn’t care if Bobbie Jo knew he was with Lizbeth—the woman she never knew existed. But if she knew he was at Pandora’s—her idea of the most vile, disgusting place on Earth—her mental disposition would probably be ten times worse than expected under the circumstances.
Obviously, the kids didn’t know about their uncle’s adventures into the kinky side of sex or that he turned his passion into a profitable business. But Bobbi Jo did, and it offended all her senses, including the one she liked to refer to the most—good old-fashioned common sense. She’d refused to set foot in the building, even while they’d been doing renovations, before any of the theme rooms were built or the equipment moved in.
“I told her I didn’t know why you weren’t answering, but I’d find you.” He tilted his head to the side. “There’s a full house downstairs and it’s rocking pretty hard, so I’m sure she knows you’re here, at Pandora’s. But that’s all.”
“I’ll… uhh…” Lizbeth turned in a circle, as if seeking a rock to climb under. Then her gaze settled on the bathroom. “I’ll go shower and give you privacy to make your calls.”
His heart screamed at him to tell her, “NO!” He didn’t want her to go. He needed her with him. Now. Always. But logically, he knew it would be easier to talk to Bobbi Jo if he wasn’t concerned about saying something that might be misconstrued by Lizbeth or upset her.
You mean like letting her think you want her locked in the bathroom so you have privacy to talk to your soon-to-be ex-wife?
He took in Lucas’s closed expression, which told him everything Lucas thought. Way to go, bro. But you’ve got enough on you right now, so I’m not going to beat your ass. But when this is over, we’re going to the mat.
He dropped back his head, closed his eyes, and cursed the universe, the gods of fire, and himself. And then he drew in a deep breath and stood, grabbed his sweatpants, and called Bobbi Jo.
Through heaving sobs, she told him the fire was still burning and the house appeared to be a total loss. “What are we going to do? We don’t have anywhere to stay. We can’t stay with my parents. Their house is too small, and my dad can’t handle the chaos of three kids—”
“Stop right there, Bobbi Jo. You guys can stay with me until we figure out
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