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He wasn’t.
He intimidated weak dudes like Zane, but he was all bark and no bite.
Ruby reached into her back pocket and slapped what looked like a wad of cash in his hand. “This shit ends now. Now go finish your beer and stay the hell away from my brother.”
Sam looked down at his hand and quickly assessed that whatever she’d given him was what he’d wanted, and he gave her a curt nod.
“You’re too sexy to be cleaning up your baby brother’s mess, Ruby,” he said, and my hands fisted at my sides.
“And you’re too stupid to realize that I don’t give a shit what you think of me. Go drink your beer, Sam.”
Damn.
Ruby Rose was even more of a badass than I’d thought.
Maybe I was pissing on my turf, after all.
four
. . .
Ruby
I spentthe morning scouring my father’s house, which was the home I’d grown up in. It wasn’t large, but it sat on a quiet street right on the water. It was my favorite place in the world, if I was being honest. Minus all the stress that came with being back in Magnolia Falls.
But when I tuned out all the noise and just let myself be… this was where I found the most peace. In this little cottage on the lake that had two bedrooms, a small kitchen, and a whole lot of love.
My father had always been my safe place.
Yes, he drank too much. Yes, he got himself into a shit ton of trouble without even trying.
But he loved me, and I’d always known it.
Felt it.
So, I’d cleaned the place up, stripped the beds, and stocked the refrigerator with food, as there’d only been a case of beer and a bag of shredded cheese in there when I’d arrived.
I slipped into my jean shorts and a tank top, as it was a gorgeous day outside, and I wanted to take the kayak out. I remembered the day my dad had brought it home for me on mysixteenth birthday. He’d had my name painted on the side: Ruby Rose.
I hadn’t been out on the water in years.
When I left for school, I’d been desperate for a fresh start.
I’d needed to get away from this place.
My mother had just divorced husband number three, and she was spiraling. My brothers were both out of control, and I was putting out fire after fire.
And as much as I loved my father, I couldn’t be what he needed. I’d had to pick him up from the bar night after night because he was drinking even heavier than usual during that time—and it all just got to be too much.
So, I’d reached for a lifeline and saved myself, because the fear of not leaving had started seeping in. The fear of staying sedentary like the rest of my family.
I wanted more out of life.
But my father was my weakness. It had always been the two of us against the world.
He’d cut way back on his drinking over the last few years and I’d appreciated it. He liked to say that he was a work in progress, and I’d tell him that as long as he was working on himself, that was what mattered.
I needed him to take better care of himself because he was important to me.
