May Contain Wine (SWAT Generation 2.0 Book 5)

by Lani Lynn Vale

  I… didn’t know.

  “We may have already taken the choice out of either one of our hands,” she said. “Now, I realize that we’ll have to wait to confirm… and I should know in the next week. But I think that we need to start using birth control. I love you, but there are things that I want to do with just us before we get to that point.”

  I smoothed my hand over her face.

  “You leaving isn’t the only thing that makes me want a baby with you,” I told her honestly. “There’s more to it.”

  “What more?” she pushed.

  “I heard you and your mom talking once about how the doctor thought, if you had a pregnancy, it might regulate whatever is wrong with your body. The hormones that make you have those awful periods,” I said.

  Her brows rose. “Eavesdropping isn’t becoming.”

  I snorted. “I wasn’t eavesdropping. I was on the phone on hold, waiting for my insurance company to settle an issue with my VIN. I was being quiet. It’s not my fault you and your mother entered the room and started talking about it before I could get a chance to tell you I was there.”

  Her mouth twitched into a smile. Then she reached for the shampoo.

  Her shampoo sat at the top ledge of my shower, and she had to stretch to get it.

  I watched her reach it, not bothering to offer her help because I enjoyed the way her body slid against mine as she moved.

  When she grasped the bottle in her hand, she poured out so much shampoo that I was worried it’d be too much. But in the end she lathered it all up in her hair, then started on mine with the excess.

  I closed my eyes and nearly moaned as she worked her fingers through my hair.

  “My doctor thinks that it might help,” she agreed. “But, again, it’s only a thought. Nobody’s really sure why I have the anemia. There’s no logical reason for it. They also thought that birth control would work, and it didn’t.”

  I looked at her.

  “When you say birth control, are you talking about me using condoms?” I asked.

  She rolled her eyes.

  “I would never suggest that you cover that pretty little cock,” she teased.

  I grinned. “Did you just call my cock little?”

  She shrugged.

  “Maybe.”

  Finishing up with the shower, I eventually got used to the water, but as we were stepping out, she started to laugh.

  “Your back is beet red,” she snickered.

  “That’s because all the skin is gone, and you’re seeing the muscle underneath,” I teased.

  Her snicker turned into a full-blown laugh.

  After we got dressed—me in underwear to go to bed and her in sweats—I pulled her into one last kiss.

  “I love you. So much,” I told her. “I’ve been wishing I could hear those words from you since forever, it feels like.”

  I wanted to pull her back into the bed with me and make love to her all over again.

  But when I tried to reach for her, she giggled and stepped out of my reach.

  “Go to bed, Louie,” she teased. “I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”

  Reluctantly, I did as she asked. Or, at least tried to.

  My mind was filled with all kinds of things. Things that were important. Things that could break through my happy little world and shatter it.

  Which happened to be why I was awake when it happened.

  It was ten minutes after Calloway had left the room that I got the call.

  Romeo really had hung himself in his cell this time.

  Taking his life and a small piece of my heart with him.

  Chapter 15

  First of all, fix your eyebrows.

  -Calloway’s secret thoughts

  Calloway

  I was busy flipping the bacon when I felt Louis’ hands come to a stop on my hips.

  I grinned and placed the tongs on the side of the pot, then turned and wrapped my arms around his neck.

  He cooperated and bent down, offering me his mouth before I could even reach for it.

  I kissed him hard, then let go of him so I could turn back to my bacon.

  “I’m in the either burn it or crisp it stage,” I explained as he chuckled at my abruptness. “I don’t want to burn it.”

  Louis and I both liked our bacon crispy. And there was a sweet spot where it was crispy and not burnt, and a narrow window to find it.

  So he let me be, walking around behind me to the coffee pot.

  It was nearing eleven in the morning, but Louis started every morning off with coffee, regardless of time.

  He filled his cup up—he had to be the only man that still used the coffee pot and not a Keurig—and turned to survey me.

  I started pulling the bacon off and placing it on the plate lined with paper towels, and didn’t stop to talk until I was done.

  “Three eggs?” I asked.

  “Four,” he answered, voice rough with sleep.

  I cracked open four eggs into the small bowls that I’d been able to find, then went about making him the eggs in the leftover bacon grease.

  Personally, I liked mine cooked in butter, but I knew that Louis preferred his in the grease, so I did what I knew he wanted.

  Which was funny, because just a month ago, I couldn't care less.

  “What’s that smile for?” Louis asked.

  His rough voice made my nipples pebble.

  “I was thinking about how I know how you like your eggs,” I said. “And how I know you’re about to smother them in salsa. I know you.”

  “You didn’t know I wanted four eggs,” he teased.

  I rolled my eyes. “I knew that you wanted them over easy, cooked in bacon grease and that your normal order was three eggs.”

  He flashed me a grin. A grin that quickly fell off his face.

  “We need to talk about last night,” he rumbled quietly.

  I scrunched up my nose.

  “What happened?” I asked quietly.

  He spent the next hour explaining exactly what had happened the night before.

  Shortly after he’d gotten the call about Romeo, he’d called me into the room and told me.

  Of course, I’d been heartbroken—granted, the kid was weird, but I didn’t want him to die—and had done the only thing I could do. Hug him.

  Shortly after I’d left, giving him the space to think or sleep, whatever he’d needed to do.

  And eventually I’d heard his soft snores coming from the closed bedroom door.

  But I knew that there’d been more.

  The ‘more’ wasn’t very good.

  “I don’t even know what to say,” I said softly. “Pretty much, if I’m understanding this correctly, it was me going on this date with him, and leaving, that caused him to have a psychotic break? I guess I should be happy that he’s not using people?”

  I mean, that was something to be happy about.

  Right?

  If that was the case, why did my heart still ache when I thought about all the animals that had died because of me?

  How many more animals were going to be tortured before we finally found him and got him the help that he needed?

  “We think that the mother is aiding him in some way,” he said. “She ‘gave him the keys to their Florida house’ but the timelines in their stories don’t line up. When I called this morning to check on what was happening, Bennett informed me that the mother didn’t even shed a tear at the news that her son had hung himself in his cell.”

  I grimaced.

  “I’ve never liked the mother much,” I admitted. “When I called her the very first time to come get Romeo from school, she bitched me out. I’m talking, literally fifteen minutes of bitching so solid that I’d said ‘never mind’ just so I wouldn’t have to deal with her in person. I mean, Romeo hadn’t been ‘sick.’ I’d just felt that she would want to come get him if he wasn’t feeling well. I’d been wrong. She hadn�
�t. And, in fact, had been so pissed off that the next day she’d called and told me not to call her unless Romeo was running a fever worthy of being sent home, throwing up, or something was broken.”

  “That was the vibe I got from Tiana Ricci,” Louis muttered, watching as I pulled his eggs off. “She wasn’t concerned at all for Romeo. Only Julian. Which was really fuckin’ weird. Since Julian was under investigation for what he’d been doing at your house, and Romeo wasn’t.”

  I sighed and pushed the paper plate toward him.

  “I don’t even know what to say,” I admitted. “The one and only time I’d met her—she’d had to come pick Romeo up because he’d sustained a possible concussion during football practice—she’d been a real bitch. I don’t even think she said a word to him. She’d arrived, glared at me, and had signed him out before snapping her fingers at Romeo. Not a word had been spoken. The next day, there was a note from her saying he was fine to return to class. No concussion, and that she would be sending us the hospital bill.”

  Louis’ eyes were hard. “She didn’t deserve to have kids.”

  I agreed wholeheartedly.

  Cracking my eggs into the pan, I fried myself up two eggs before walking to stand next to where Louis was leaning against the counter.

  Together we ate standing up and didn’t speak again until all of our food was gone.

  I eyed the stack of bacon and decided against another piece.

  I was still hungry, but I’d eaten my fair share, and the rest was Louis’.

  And he would eat it all.

  He saw me looking and grinned. “Eat it.”

  I rolled my eyes but snagged a piece.

  It was only when I was done that I said, “Now what?”

  He grimaced.

  “Now, we hope it doesn’t take too long to find him.” he said. “You stay with me. I take you to and from school… and we hope that he doesn’t take too long to find. I don’t think he’s altogether dangerous, per se, but I do feel like we need to treat this seriously. Just because he hasn’t been dangerous to you, doesn’t mean that he hasn’t been dangerous to animals. And if he’s capable of that, then he’s capable of anything, in my opinion.”

  I sadly agreed with him.

  “Okay,” I sighed. “But what about this summer? I was planning on fixing my house up. If I can’t stay there…”

  His eyebrows rose. “You were planning on doing what?”

  I grimaced. “Scraping paint off the inside walls. Repainting. Stuff like that.”

  He pulled me until I was pressing against him.

  “You probably should have the entire place checked over for black mold, dry rot, and things like that,” he said. “The roof, I noticed, is leaking in a few places. Roof leaks can cause problems in other areas.”

  “It doesn’t leak inside though,” I said.

  “No,” he agreed. “But just because it doesn’t leak through your ceiling doesn’t mean that it’s not still doing damage.”

  He had a point… but still.

  I’d never noticed it leaking—through the ceiling or otherwise.

  But I did know that the house had quite a few problems, and they needed to be checked out.

  So yeah, he might have a point.

  He grinned at me unrepentantly, then started the process of cleaning up after me.

  “I don’t own my place,” he said as he started to pour the bacon grease into the little ceramic dish with all his leftover bacon grease. “I can move.”

  My brows lifted.

  “I want to move in with you,” he told me bluntly, moving his eyes from where he was pouring the bacon grease—using one hand might I add. Hell, I couldn’t even hold the pot’s lid up with one hand, let alone with a pot full of bacon grease.

  He had one of those cast iron skillets—literally his only skillet in the entire kitchen—that he’d gotten from his mom.

  I’d been envious of it since I’d started cooking breakfast this morning.

  But damn, was it big.

  And there he was, lifting it up, not straining in the least.

  The arms of his shoulders and biceps bulged, but that was the only sign of him exerting himself.

  “Are you even listening to me?” he teased.

  I blinked, pulling my gaze away from his bulging biceps to come to rest on his face.

  “Umm, a bit,” I lied.

  He grinned wickedly at me.

  “I was saying that I want to move in with you,” he said. “And I don’t mind helping you with repairs on your house, but we need to do it before we actually move in. It’d be a hell of a lot easier if we weren’t actually living there.”

  Butterflies started to swarm in my belly.

  “I’d like that,” I said softly. “A lot.”

  He winked before moving the skillet he was holding to the sink. But he didn’t wash it. Nope, he literally only wiped it out with paper towels, then hung it right back on the wall where I’d gotten it from this morning.

  “We need to talk about a few other things, too,” he said as he started to clean up the egg mess.

  I licked my lips, watching as his hands and arm muscles bunched and lengthened as he washed the four small bowls I’d been using to crack the eggs into.

  “What else?” I asked curiously, eyes once again captivated.

  It was his chuckling that had me once again meeting his gaze.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Are you going to get your head out of the clouds and listen to me today? Or should we go take care of you first, then have this discussion?” he wondered.

  I licked my lips, seriously contemplating what he’d said.

  I did feel a little needy…

  He saw the look in my eyes, grinned wickedly, and abandoned the mess we’d left.

  Seconds later, I was in his arms, his mouth was on mine, and we were doing it in the kitchen.

  ***

  I dried my hair using Ashe’s hair dryer.

  I’d texted her to see if I could use it and had Louis run over there while I was in the shower to go get it.

  I oohed and ahhed over the Dyson dryer that seemed to work ten times better than my normal dryer, marveling at how straight my hair was after using it.

  I wouldn’t even need to use the straightener that I’d borrowed.

  I wasn’t saying that my hair was really in need of a straightener—mostly it was wavy/straight enough for me to deal with it—but tonight was a big deal. And I wanted it to look sleek and beautiful.

  I also wanted people to see me on Louis’ arm and think that we fit.

  I didn’t want to be that half-assed slouch that I usually was when it came to dressing up.

  Because damn, could Louis clean up well.

  He was currently leaning over the bathroom sink brushing his teeth. He was wearing a nice pair of dark-washed jeans, black work boots, and a white-collared shirt.

  He had the long sleeves rolled up to right under his elbow, and the same damn belt buckle I’d gotten him in high school for our first Christmas together.

  I hadn’t seen it in forever, and the fact that he was wearing it right then made my heart melt a little bit.

  “Why are you staring at me like that?” he asked curiously.

  I blinked, unaware of when he’d finished brushing his teeth, and shrugged as I continued to dry my hair.

  “I was thinking that I hadn’t seen that belt in a really long time,” I said softly.

  He walked over to me and ran his hand along the length of my neck, dipping down low to hook his finger around my necklace.

  “I haven’t seen this either,” he rumbled.

  He tugged the necklace that he’d given me free of my shirt and fingered it.

  I licked my lips.

  “I carry it with me in my purse,” I replied. “I thought I’d lost it a few years ago. Found it in the back seat of my car after some frantic searching. I nearly lost my mind.
I was literally crying for an hour when I happened to spot it between the seat cushions. My purse had dumped over in the back seat when I’d taken a turn.”

  He dropped the chain, then cupped my face with one hand.

  “I’d have bought you another one,” he said softly. “All you had to do was ask.”

  I managed a smile, even though tears were stinging my eyes.

  I turned off the hair dryer, set it carefully on the counter, then wrapped my hands around Louis’ neck.

  “What was it that you wanted to say to me earlier?” I asked curiously.

  He grinned. “I’ll show you when we get home.”

  I fake pouted at him, causing him to grin too.

  “You won’t convince me with that,” He bit my pouted lip lightly. “Now hurry up and finish getting ready. We have places to be. Things to do. Pizza to eat.”

  “We’re not having pizza. We’re having Mexican food,” I said.

  His eyes turned to me with a raised brow. “When did that change?”

  I smiled at him with a wide grin in place. “I might or might not have been texting on your group chat all morning with your family. Then I talked with mine. And none of the ladies want pizza.”

  He rolled his eyes. “They probably knew you weren’t me.”

  I shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not.” I paused. “I use punctuation, though. They likely knew immediately. And it wasn’t like I really tried to keep that it was me a secret.”

  He winked and straightened, his hands going to his sleeves to push them back up to rest right under his elbow.

  I walked to him and gestured for him to hold his arm out, which he did.

  I quickly unrolled the sleeves, re-rolled them, then moved on to the next arm.

  When I got to that arm, I ran my hand over the swirls of tattoos, wishing that I had the courage to get one.

  “What?” he asked, pushing my hair behind my shoulder and trailing it down the length of my throat.

  “I was thinking that I wished I had the courage to get one,” I admitted. “Every time I think about doing it, I freak out.”

  He chuckled. “You’ve never liked needles.”

  Nope. Which sucked, because I had to be stuck with one at least once a month.

  “I’ll hold your hand when you get your first one,” he teased.