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I don’t look at him as I move past him, holding back my tears and I walk briskly down the corridor, toward the reception area where Cole is waiting.
“Savannah.” He stands up from the leather couch he’s on and immediately comes toward me like he can sense something’s wrong.
“I’m fine.” I shrug his hand away when he tries to put it on my shoulder then rushing toward the door to the staircase I wait until I’m alone in the stairwell before I release all my tears.
The door behind me swings open and when I look up over my shoulder and see Cole, I somehow manage to smile.
“Well Daddy’s a dick head,” I inform him sarcastically, and I’m surprised at how calm he is when he casually takes a seat on the concrete step beside me.
“I’m sorry.” He slides his arm around my shoulder.
“Not your fault.” I use the back of my hand to wipe away my tears. “I don’t know what I was expecting from him. It was just more than that,” I admit.
“Come on, let’s get ya home.” He stands up and offers me his hand. I let him pull me to my feet so our eyes are almost level. We’re real close and his eyes keep focusing down on my lips like he’s about to do something about it.
“Thanks for being here.” I manage another smile for him.
“Wouldn’t be anywhere else.” He nods his head politely, before pulling away and leading me down the stairs, back toward his truck.
Ihate seeing her sad. The way she’s trying not to cry as she packs up her things and prepares to leave the hotel is making me more frustrated with her son of a bitch father by the second. The blood pumping in my veins has reached boiling point and I still don’t know how the hell I didn’t storm back into that cunt’s office and spill his guts all over his desk.
I check the time, eager to get us back on the road so Maisie and Leia can do their things and give her the comfort she needs right now. Just hearing her tell me some of the things he said to her on the way back here, and seeing the result it’s had on her has fueled the fire in me that’s itching to get out.
I carry our bags to the truck while she checks out, then pulling out my phone I check the time, before opening the map app and typing in the name of the restaurant I heard her father’s receptionist confirm his lunchtime reservation with.
Turns out it’s only a ten-minute drive away and Heaton should be arriving right about now.
“All done.” She fakes me a brave smile as she steps toward me and gets inside the truck. “Let’s hit the road.” The disappointment on her face makes me so fuckin’ angry as I get behind the wheel, that I press start on the route and head to the restaurant.
“We just got one stop off to make first,” I tell her, pulling out on the road and making my way toward the restaurant.
“What are we doing here? It looks fancy.” Savannah stares at the restaurant once I’m parked in front of it.
“I’m just gonna grab us something to go. You stay here, okay?” I get out the truck and slam the door before heading for the entrance.
“Cole, I don’t think this is the kinda place that does take out,” Savannah calls out at me through the window.
“Just stay there.” I point my finger at her sternly before swinging open the door and heading inside.
I’m not surprised at the stares I get. I look out of place among all the people here in my jeans, checked shirt, and my Stetson, and the maître d quickly steps in my way to block me from entering the dining area.
“Can I help you, sir?” he asks.
“No.” I shove him hard in his chest, knocking him into one of the fancy plants and hearing a woman gasp over the soft classical music that’s playing in the background.
Marching on past him, I check the computer screen at his podium, searching for Heaton’s name among the tables.
“Table 24?” I grab one of the passing waiters by his black tie and watch him fearfully point to the opposite side of the restaurant, where six men are seated around a circular table, oblivious to the commotion I’ve caused and laughing among each other obnoxiously.
“Calvin Heaton,” I call out to them when I’m standing in front of it.
“Steady, partner, where's your horse?” Some jumped up prick makes an awful attempt on a southern accent as he looks up to me, and I respond by throwing my fist at his jaw and knocking him off the chair he’s sitting on.
“Any other one of you fuckers got something clever to say?” I check between his buddies
“I’m Calvin.” The man responsible for Savannah’s tears eventually speaks up, staring across the table at me fearlessly.
“Pleased to meet ya.” I stomp around the table, pick up the steak knife beside his plate, and hear him roar in pain when I stab it straight into his thigh. His friends do nothing, just stare at me, and since I figure I haven’t got long until the cops show up I make this fast.
