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Judge remained silent, in awe of her and tracking every word out of her mouth, cataloguing it and filing it away to consider later.

“So not that. Your dad. I don’t get that. He’s filthy rich. How did he not find ways to get to you?”

When he didn’t answer, she stopped what she was doing with the plates, cheese and tortillas and turned back to him.

“Judge?”

He cleared his throat.

And said, “Because Granddad wanted me to himself, but if he couldn’t have that, he wanted me in Texas. Dad could have crushed Mom, but Granddad got involved, and he fights dirty. In the beginning, I was caught in the crossfire. To save me, particularly from the media feeding on the custody battle, and Granddad feeding that media, in the middle of all that being me, Dad had no choice but to back away.”

Her face paled.

“It’s okay,” he said.

Her face got red.

“It’s okay, honey,” he reiterated.

“You mean to tell me,” she began slowly, “that it wasn’t only your mother who fought tooth and nail to keep your father from you…your father, who sounds like the only functioning one out of that bunch, outside your grandmother, who’s dead…your grandfather did that too?”

“Look at me, I’m fine. I survived.”

“Are you kidding me!” she screeched abruptly.

Judge went solid.

“Oh my fucking God!” she yelled.

Judge stared.

“This…is not…to be…tolerated!” she shouted.

“Baby, calm down,” he urged soothingly.

“Fuck calm,” she snapped.

He blinked.

“Did you want to see more of your dad?” she demanded.

“Like you said,” he started cautiously, “he was the only functioning one of the bunch. But yeah, I mean, he’s my dad.” Considering her reaction, he wondered about the wisdom of adding his next, but since they were getting this out of the way, he did. “I didn’t spend a lot of time with him, but he was the only one I felt safe with the entire time I was growing up.”

She took a beat with that then literally shoved him out of the way.

Yep.

Shoved him out of the way.

Then she ripped the wooden spoon out of his hand and took over dinner.

And she did this raving.

“Well, no. No way. Not on your life. That is done. I mean, you must do what you must with your mother, the bare necessities. She did birth you after all.”

She was slamming around meat, tortillas, cheese was flying, opening the salsa, clicking the top off the sour cream container.

“But that grandfather of yours. And that uncle?”

He hadn’t even mentioned Jeff.

But Jeff was a fuckup and creepy to boot.

Judge had learned a long time ago to stay away from Jeff.

Obviously, though, her research had been thorough.

“No. No way,” she repeated, slapping meat on a cheesy tortilla. “And your dad is going to have to get over it. You’re good at what you do. You love doing it. If he’s not okay with you doing that, he can fuck off.” She twirled the wooden spoon in the air and taco juice went flying. “C’est fini.”

“Baby, you loaded half a pound of meat on that one tortilla.”

Her head snapped back, and her fiery eyes caught his.

“Are you not hungry?”

This.

Fuck.

It was this.

This was why they all leaned on her.

Because when Chloe Pierce loved you, she fought like hell to protect you.

And she did it like a wildcat.

He pulled the plate out of her hand, set it aside, took the spoon from her other hand, tossed it in the skillet, pushed the meat and the griddle from their burners and turned them off.

Then he maneuvered her back to the counter and pressed her to it.

“Judge, dinner will go cold,” she snapped, her hands on his chest, pressing.

“I…am…absolutely…fine…with…my…crazy…fucked-up…family,” he stated.

She gazed up at him.

“I live my life, and I don’t give a fuck what they think of how I do it.”

“Okay,” she said quietly.

“So you can stand down.”

Her eyes got big, and she sucked her lips between her teeth.

“Yeah?” he pushed.

She let her lips go and he knew by the way she said the one syllable, “I—” she was not at one with his Yeah?

“Chloe, this…” he waved a hand between them, “is me looking out for you, not the other way around. Don’t lose the weight of carrying the others only to pull me on your shoulders. I don’t need you to carry me.”

“You might.”

“I don’t.”

“Maybe eventually.”

“But not now.”

“What I’m saying is…Judge,” she drawled his name slowly, it was cute, and hot, “it goes both ways, or it doesn’t go at all.”

“You gonna let this shit go you got in your head about Mom, Dad and Granddad?”

She lifted one shoulder. “If you say you’re good, then okay. Yes. I’ll let that go.”

He examined her face, looked deep into her eyes, and then he gave in. “Okay.”

She then examined his face, looked deep into his eyes, and asked, “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“You’ll share the load if there is one, or let me carry it, whatever the case may be.”

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