I’m no expert on women. People often think I should be since my best friends are Cricket and Bianca Bella. I also spent the first part of my life raised by only my mother. All that means is I’m comfortable with women, but I don’t understand them any better than any man does.

Like now, I’m at a fucking loss. For some damn reason, Tatum has gone cuckoo on me. I handle her in the same way I do Cricket or Bianca Bella when they lose their female marbles.

Leaning her against me, I gently pat her head with my palm while humming “Wild World” by Cat Stevens. It’s one of the few songs I know the words to, but I don’t break out and serenade Tatum in my horrible singing voice. She’s suffered enough today.

“I can’t go in there,” she says weakly. She stares up at me, and I notice her dilated pupils are normalizing. “I don’t know him.”

“I know, but you know me.”

“Yes,” she says, sighing as if relieved I understand her situation.

“I rushed you into this moment. I hoped to keep you safe by giving you a hundred reasons to live, but you’re not ready for a hundred. You only need one.”

Nodding, Tatum sighs again and her quick breaths slow. She’s calmer now, and I am the reason. On the other hand, I read her wrong last night. I’d seen a woman so angry she’d die to get her revenge. Except Tatum isn’t angry. She’s depressed, pure and simple. Sorrow is an entirely different beast than rage, and I need to change my game plan if I want to keep her with me.

“I’m sorry,” she says, sounding tired.

“Do you want to go back to your house?”

“No.”

“Do you want to hang out with me?”

“Yes.”

“Then don’t apologize. We’re both getting what we want.”

Tatum sits up and stares at me. “I’ve never eaten orange chicken or any other Chinese food. Mom didn’t like it, and I never thought to try it on my own.”

“There’s something addictive about how you confess minor secrets as if you’re revealing your soul.”

Tatum gives me a grumpy frown, and I can’t keep my fingers from caressing away her furrowed brow.

“Let me drop off the food and tell Bonn we’re bailing for tonight.”

“Will he be angry?” she asks as if she’s a kid rather than a grown woman capable of telling anyone and everyone to fuck off.

“Who cares?”

“I do.”

“Oh. Well, don’t worry about Bonn. He’s my father’s minion, so his feelings don’t matter.”

“I don’t want to make him hate me,” she insists, no longer sounding as uncertain, and I catch a hint of her temper in the way her jaw tightens.

“As a wussy bitch, he’s incapable of hating a sweet gal like you. It’s not in his DNA. So stop worrying and wait here.”

Tatum doesn’t complain when I get out of the car, but her breathing quickens, and her eyes widen. Like a jackass, I smile at how much she needs me.

Carrying the bags of food to the front door on Ruby and Bonn’s modest home, I use my elbow to hit the doorbell. Bonn answers almost immediately as if he’s been waiting with his hand on the knob.

“Where is she?” he asks, opening the screen door.

“Change of plans,” I announce and receive an annoyed frown from Bonn. “Tatum is intimidated by the idea of you. I tried to tell her how you’re not at all scary. I even called you a wussy bitch, but she isn’t ready to embrace her fellow Howler bastard.”

“Did you even ask her before coming to my office today?”

“Sure, but women are allowed to change their minds, Bonn. Hasn’t Ruby taught you that?”

“You’re an ass.”

Ruby appears next to Bonn, looking smoking hot for a woman my mother’s age.

“I dig the Farah Fawcett hair,” I say, giving her a wink.

“It’s popular again,” she says defensively while her hand caresses her dark locks.

“Yeah, I heard. So here’s the dinner I promised,” I say, handing the bags to Bonn. “Orange chicken with all the fixings. Enjoy.”

“You’re not staying?” Ruby asks and cranes her neck to see past me to where my Range Rover idles.

“Tatum got cold feet,” I explain. “She thinks Bonn might be like Howler. She just can’t accept how much of a pussy your husband is.”

“Still an asshole,” Bonn says, walking away with the food.

“Should I talk to her?” Ruby offers.

“Not tonight. She’s all wound up, but soon she’ll want to know you and Bonn. Chevelle and Adric too. Tatum needs to know Howler doesn’t ruin lives. She can be happy like Bonn is.”

“You’re sweet,” Ruby says, patting my cheek. “Anytime you want to bring her by, just let us know, and we’ll be here.”

Smiling, I remember how Chevelle used to bitch about her mother. Typical teenager shit. We’d sit around, talking tough about our asshole parents and how they didn’t understand us. Adults now, we’re very aware we hit the parental lottery. Ruby’s concern of a stranger is another reminder of this fact.

Leaving Ruby so she can eat before the food gets cold, I return to Tatum.

“Were they mad?” she asks instantly.

“Of course not. They’re great people.”

Tatum watches me in the dark SUV, and I suspect she’s thinking of her mother.

“Let’s go eat at Panda Express,” I suggest. “You can try each dish and see what you like and what you hate.”

“What if I hate it all?”

“Then we don’t eat at Panda Express again.”

“But you like Panda Express.”

“Yes, and I’ll eat there without you. One day, you’ll find something you like that I don’t, and you can enjoy it without me. It’s not a huge deal. My parents don’t agree on everything. They compromise when they can’t. Bitch when they can’t. But differences aren’t the end of the world. I’m surprised you don’t know that.”

“My mom and I were very similar.”

“By choice or because she was the only important person in your life?”

“Both,” she says, sounding close to tears at the thought of what she’s lost.

Pulling away from the curb, I head back to Panda Express where I plan to teach Tatum to embrace her wild side—one sample at a time.