I still found this unsettling and I figured this was mostly because his declaration was present tense, which wasn’t bad, as such. It was just that nothing came after it.
I looked out the side window.
“She’s got a man, babe. She’s havin’ a baby. She might already have had it.”
In other words, beautiful February Owens was very taken.
So what did that mean? Was I the consolation prize? Ham rethought his life after getting literally axed by an ax murderer, his first choice was shacked up so he turned to Gnaw Bone?
I thought this.
I said nothing.
“Care about you, too, cookie,” he said softly.
He cared about me.
That I knew. I’d always known.
But that didn’t mean shit when you were planning on building a life with a man. Suing for f**king custody of your nephew with him.
Getting Zander was Ham’s idea in the first place and, by the way, what was that all about? Hell, Ham seemed even more determined to win Zander than I was. That wasn’t true but that didn’t mean he wasn’t driving hell-bent for leather on that.
He wanted kids. He’d wanted them since his bitch ex-wife, Rachel, aborted the two he could have given to her. Decades, he’d wanted kids.
So was Zander his shot for getting one and quick?
“Zara, you’re quiet,” Ham observed.
“I’m tired,” I semi-lied.
“Next time that old man wants to drag you up a mountain, I’m keepin’ you in bed with me,” he replied.
I again said nothing.
We went the rest of the way home in silence and, once there, I wasted no time going to the bathroom and getting ready for bed. I didn’t look up at Ham as I passed him when I left the bathroom and he was on his way to it. I just climbed into bed, turned my back to Ham’s side, and curled up under the covers.
Minutes later, Ham joined me. Seconds later, his hands were on me, attempting to roll me into a cuddle.
I resisted, pulling away and muttering, “I’m not in the mood tonight, darlin’.”
I felt Ham still before I felt him retreat.
The light went out and the bed moved with Ham settling then there was nothing.
Not until he said into the dark room, “Before, you were flippin’ me out. Now, you’re pissin’ me off.”
“Why?” I asked.
“This shit you’re pullin’,” he answered.
This shit I was pulling?
I decided not to rise to the bait. “I’m just tired, Ham. I’m not pullin’ any shit.”
“You are, and you’re full of shit, too.”
That, I couldn’t let slide so I lifted up on a forearm and twisted my head to look in his direction. “How am I full of shit? I went to bed last night at three thirty in the morning and got out of it at seven thirty. I’ve had four hours of sleep.”
Ham, being all I knew that was Ham, didn’t hesitate to lay it out honestly.
“You asked that shit about Feb, didn’t like my answers, now you’re pouting.”
Unfortunately, although this was somewhat close to the truth, now I was pissed off.
“I’m not pouting,” I snapped.
“Tell me when we have ever shared the same bed and, even if we didn’t f**k, you didn’t sleep the whole goddamned night somehow cuddled into me.”
I had no reply mostly because there was never a time, not once, when we shared the same bed where I didn’t sleep snuggled close to Ham.
“Yeah,” he stated, knowing from my nonresponse that he’d made his point.
With no other retort open to me, and angrier because of it, I repeated, “I’m not pouting, Ham.”
“You weren’t my first, babe, but you’re gonna be my last,” he declared.
Unthinking, too ticked to think, I shot back, “Lucky me Feb was taken, or I wouldn’t get that.”
After I finished speaking, I noted the air in the room instantly got heavy, and not the good, warm, safe kind. The bad, dangerous, suffocating kind.
And I didn’t care.
He cared about her.
He cared about me.
What the hell was I supposed to do with that?
“What the f**k was that remark about?” he growled, and it wasn’t his good, warm, sexy growl but his bad, dangerous, angry growl.
“Forget it,” I mumbled and collapsed back in bed.
“Do you honestly think I’m gonna let you get away with that shit you just spewed?” he asked.
“Apparently not, since I should be sleeping and you’re still talking,” I replied.
The bed moved and the light went on.
I sighed, loud and heavily.
“Look at me, Zara.”
“Can we do this in the morning?”
“Fuckin’ look… at… me.”
That was said in his downright terrifying, bad, dangerous, angry growl.
Since I had no choice, I sat up and turned to him, crossing my arms on my chest and my legs under me. Ham was up, too, back to the headboard, legs cocked at the knees under the covers, arms also crossed on his chest. I didn’t know how he could be frightening, essentially lying in bed, but he pulled it off in a big way.
Luckily, I knew he’d never hurt me so I ignored that, too.
“Now, explain that shit,” he ordered.
“I’m not exactly going to do cartwheels, knowing you care about another woman,” I stated the obvious.
“Then why the f**k did you ask about her?” he asked.
“We still have more of your shit to talk through and I figured she was part of that.”
“Well, she’s not part of any shit I gotta talk through. But, advice, babe, you wanna have a deep conversation, don’t start it when you’re tired and in a bitchy mood.”
I felt my temper spiking as I informed him, “I wasn’t in a bitchy mood until you switched back to ask-no-questions, tell-no-lies Ham.”
Ham lost patience and I knew this when he clipped, “Fuckin’ hell, Zara, I don’t know this shit you got goin’ on in your head but there’s only one me.”
“That’s bad news,” I fired back, “seein’ as the Ham I know cuts ties and takes off when the spirit moves him.”
His brows drew together over narrowed eyes and he asked low, “Is that what this shit is about?”
“Actually, this shit is about me wanting to go to sleep, you not letting me do it, picking a fight, and me being so f**king tired I could fall asleep right now, sitting up, and you not letting this shit go.”
“Zara, you started it by bringin’ up Feb,” he reminded me.