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“Billie, this is not some goddamn sex-ed class. This is your life. And your body.”
“Yes, mine,” she said, chin lifting. “Not yours. So stop concerning yourself with it.”
“If you’re not going—“
“I can hear the yelling in the hallway,” Cary said, appearing behind me. “Need a mediator?” he asked, looking between the two of us. And I wasn’t quite sure how he managed not to eye-fuck Billie in all her almost-naked glory. But he didn’t. I knew. I was watching closely.
Why?
Well, that was a good question, wasn’t it?
“You can tell Rowe that a little fan erotica is no big deal,” Billie said, making Cary’s brows draw together until I shoved the paper at him.
There was the briefest of pauses before Cary turned to her.
“Sweetheart, this is not from a fan of any sort,” he said, tone calm, rational, a father figure of sorts in that moment. “This is not complimentary. I’ve known bastards like this. They’re fucked in the head. You don’t want them in your life. Let alone leaving things like this to you.”
“You both are making a really big deal out of a really small thing,” Billie insisted.
Cary’s gaze cut to mine, seeming to understand the raised voices he’d walked in on.
“This isn’t okay, honey,” Cary said. “And if you’re not going to take it seriously, we are going to need to.”
“Oh, don’t bring the club in on this,” she grumbled.
“Your father would cut off my balls if I didn’t come to him with this information,” Cary insisted. “I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night if I just let it slide. Fucked in the head men like this escalate. I did time with predators. This is how it starts. No one starts their path of becoming a rapist by starting with rape. They start small and escalate as each step loses the thrill. Until they get to the rape itself. And they always do. I’m sorry to say, but you don’t have a choice in this. I have to call your old man. And Chris up at Hailstorm.”
With that, he excused himself out into the hallway to do just that.
“You’re both overreacting,” Billie insisted, crossing her arms over her chest. But she reached up to tug at her pussy flower earring, an unmistakable sign of discomfort or anxiety.
“I’d rather we overreact and keep you safe than under react and you end up hurt.”
“I am not uprooting my life again,” she insisted. “I am tired of going into lockdown. I’m not doing it again over this little nothing.”
“Think you’re gonna end up doing whatever your old man decides is best.”
“He’s not the boss of me either,” Billie insisted. “This isn’t the eighteen-hundreds. He doesn’t get to make my decisions for me.”
“Sugar might not be able to make your decisions, but I’m not stupid, babe. You listen to your old man. He’s not someone who overreacts.” Out of all the men, Sugar was probably the most likely to react the exact right way in any given situation. I imagined many years with Billie’s crazy-ass mother, then having to raise his hippie-ass daughter had only made him even more accepting of shit.
But if Sugar decided something was worth a big reaction, you knew it was serious. I had no doubt he was going to side with me on this.
“Honey, your ma and dad are on their way over,” Cary called, peeking his head in. “And some of the guys,” he added.
“Ugh,” Billie grumbled, making her way out of the kitchen, then into her bedroom.
Maybe I should have left her alone.
She was in a mood.
She was pissed at me for sticking my nose in her business, and potentially forcing her into yet another lockdown. But I couldn’t seem to reason with myself as I followed her into her bedroom, finding her pulling a pair of jean shorts up her legs.
“I’m not trying to be a dick, babe,” I said, watching as her head snapped up, her gaze landing on mine.
I wasn’t sure what, exactly, was in her gaze right then.
Anger or resentment or hurt.
Hell, maybe a mix of all three.
Whatever it was, though, it wasn’t a look I’d ever seen on her face before. It wasn’t one I liked seeing there, either. But I got a sinking suspicion that I was the only reason a look like that existed for Billie.
She quickly fastened her shorts then made her way toward me, barely pausing in her stride when she passed me to murmur, “You never have to try to be a dick, Rowe.”
I wasn’t sure anyone had ever heard something close to a true insult from Billie before. I’d clearly fucked up royally to be the first.
But soon, Sugar and Peyton were making their way in. It almost felt wrong to hand over naked sketches and violent threats about their daughter to them, but it wasn’t like I could shield them from the severity of the situation either.
