Page 32 of Passion in Bloom

I tried. I tried to do right by her and offer her a place to sleep and food whenever she needed it. She was family, and that mattered to me. But I’d be damned if I gave her money again after stealing from me like this.

I’d had enough.

That cash was a safety net for me. I wouldn’t be destitute without it, but it was my hard-earned money. It was my attempt to rebuild all that I’d lost in my divorce with Veronica.

Gavin didn’t question me when I asked if he wanted to meet at the bar for a drink.

It seemed he was stressed out from his kids and a medical bill that popped up and caused an argument with Wendy.

“Women or money,” he said once I sat down next to him. “I swear, those are the two things that will always give me a headache.”

“You got that right.”

“What’s with you?” he asked. “You don’t make a habit of drinking on Mondays.”

“My niece,” I bit out, still so furious that she’d go so far to take what wasn’t hers.

“What’d she do now?”

“Broke in through a different window. Cleared out most of my groceries.”

He cringed. “And that shit isn’t cheap. Even for a bachelor like you. Everything’s fucking expensive now.”

“Then she stole some cash I had hiding.”

He shook his head. “What the fuck?”

“I don’t know what to do. I’m not going to enable her and just give her money. She’ll do fuck all with it. Dye her hair a hundred times and blow through it all. She’s got no drive to get a job. To finish her GED. To do fucking anything.”

I nodded my thanks to the bartender for sliding me my drink.

“But...” Gavin scratched his head. “What does she do? I mean, where does she go? Where’s she staying when she’s not stopping in with you?”

“I have no clue. I have no fucking clue and I’m sick and tired of women thinking they can manipulate me by holding back the truth.”

“Women?” he asked.

I didn’t bother to drink my beer yet, nodding. “Yeah. Nevaeh. Heather.”

“I, uh, didn’t realize she was starting to matter that much to you.”

I frowned at him.

“As more than a neighbor and all.”

“She—”

I narrowed my eyes at a man behind him. Over his shoulder, I spotted none other than David Kenning. “Hold that thought,” I growled at him as I stood.

“Roarke? Hey, wait—” His stool scooted back as he rushed after me, the legs scraping on the floor.

I strode straight for the fucker who thought he could scare Heather.

“Oh. It’s you again,” he said, snarling as he eyed me. “The redneck who thinks he can tell my slutty girlfriend what to do—”

I grabbed the front of his shirt and lifted him off the stool he’d taken.

It was his bad luck that I was just spoiling for a fight now.

“I thought I told you to get the fuck out of here.”

He squirmed, trying to get me to release his shirt. “You get your hands off me now or—”

I tightened my fingers on the fabric, not letting him go. “You’re not welcome here, asshole. Go back to Chicago.”

“Like you’ll order me around.” He kicked out, barely hitting my shin. “You pathetic piece of shit—”

Quicker than I could give him credit for, he reared back his arm and punched me right in the side of my face.

That was all it took to make me snap.

My anger boiled over. My fury controlled me as I gritted my teeth and punched him right back, starting a brawl.

For her.