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Mickie hurried over and joined Ronnie in the door. Her stomach bottomed out at the sight of Earl Benson lurching out of a car that had slammed into her brick mailbox. He mumbled something under his breath and staggered away from the wrecked vehicle.
“Why don’t you go back inside,” Ronnie said as she stepped onto the porch. “I’ll deal with him.”
Mickie held her back. “No way. He’s trashed, and I’m not risking you getting hurt. We’ll deal with him together.”
“Strength in numbers?” Ronnie asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Exactly.”
Their conversation must have alerted Earl to their presence. His head jerked up, and his glassy gaze landed on them. The force of the movement caused him to stumble backward. Six in the evening and the man was blitzed out of his mind.
It looked like he hadn’t shaved since she’d last seen him months ago. Hell, it looked like he hadn’t showered since then, either. A long-sleeved T-shirt and jeans hung off his body, at least two sizes too big. It couldn’t have been more than thirty degrees out, but the alcohol seemed to have made him impervious to the cold—or at least given him the illusion of being warm. His hair was longer and grayer than last time. Sunken eyes and yellow skin completed the sickly look of a man with a severe alcohol addiction. Her heart squeezed for Ronnie but especially for Keith, who’d dealt with this man’s abuse for so long.
A light snow began to fall and she shivered. The urge to invite the improperly dressed man into her warm home hit hard, but she fought it. His toxicity would poison everything he touched.
“What the hell do you want?” Ronnie called.
He snorted. “Ahh, my wayward daughter. Can’t make time for her old man but has plenty of it for the rich bitch.”
“Shit,” Ronnie muttered as Mickie thought the same thing.
Ronnie took a step onto the porch. “Let me drive you home, Dad. Mickie was just on her way out.”
“Ronnie,” Mickie growled under her breath as she reached for her friend. No way was she letting her get in a car with him. Not that they could leave him out there. The car might still be drivable, and he’d kill someone for sure if he got back behind the wheel. As much as she hated the man, he was still Keith and Ronnie’s father, and she’d never forgive herself if harm came to him because she turned him away.
Ronnie only shrugged.
“Is there something you need, Mr. Benson?” Mickie called out.
“Money. Overheard Chuck complaining about the new rich bitch in town who won’t even give him the time of day.”
Okay, maybe she hadn’t managed to completely avoid Chuck and the few times she’d crossed his path, she’d gone out of her way to give him the cold shoulder.
“It got me thinking that my stupid son finally did something right, shaking up with money. But he’s too fucking selfish to share. So, I’m here to get mine.”
“I’m sorry, sir, I really can’t help you out,” Mickie said.
“Now listen here, bitch,” he started as he wobbled up her lawn. Straight through the snow without anything more than threadbare sneakers. “I—”
The shine of headlights had them all turning toward the Benson’s house where Keith’s truck rolled to a stop. The driver’s side door flew open and Keith burst from the pickup, practically steaming with fury. Jagger chased a few feet behind as Keith stormed his way toward their father. “What did I tell you would happen if you came anywhere near my woman?” he snarled as he grabbed his father and slammed him against the ruined car.
“Keith!” Jagger yelled.
Ronnie and Mickie exchanged worried glances.
So much for their good news.
Fuck.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“SO, THINGS SEEM to be going well with you and Mickie,” Jagger said as Keith drove them home from the garage. Jagger had built some shelves for tools, which Keith could kiss him for. It freed up so much space. Enough for an additional car to fit in the garage. Not that he had time for extra work, but if business kept trending upward, he’d be in the position to hire another mechanic before too long.
“Yeah, it’s good,” he said, giving Jagger a sideways glance. His brother wore a shit-eating grin.
Here it comes.
“So do you love her?” Jagger sing-songed.
He rolled his eyes. “For real? What are you twelve?”
“Nah, man, just seems like this could be it for you. You two are rarely seen apart anymore.”
With the earlier snowfall, the ground had slickened, so Keith kept his gaze fixed on the road as he said, “It?”
“Yeah, you know. The one. Your life partner. Soulmate. Wife.”
Keith grunted and nearly jerked the wheel. “Wife? Are you for real? It’s been a few months. Can’t imagine it’ll be too many more before she’s itchin’ to get back to her real life.”
