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“Danny. Dammit! Why did you do that, you big jerk?” Tears once again fell from my eyes as I reached up to cup his face. His brow would need stitches, his lip was busted, and I was pretty sure his nose was broken. His poor face was a mess.
“Get him inside and clean him up,” my dad called out. “No, not that sack of shit. That can be put in his truck and driven off my property. Now.”
“Hey, slugger, let's go get you cleaned up.” Tate wrapped an arm around Danny and as one, we moved toward the house. My dad gave me a look that said we would be talking about this soon. I let out a long, frustrated breath. Guess it was now or never. I turned to my dad, stopping Tate and Danny in the process.
“Daddy, don’t let Easton go. Call the Sheriff…there was an incident…”
“An incident?” His brows drew into a tight line.
I looked away, my mind and heart racing. How did I tell him?
“Hey…” Danny tugged free of our grip and moved to face me. His eyes scanned my face. “What did he do to you?”
“Keisha?” My dad’s voice was a hard-edged knife.
I couldn't look away from Danny as I spoke. “He…last year he rap—” I couldn’t get the word out before Danny was turning from me. His bellow of anger was the only warning Easton got. He’d just gotten to his feet when Danny slammed into him. My scream had everyone moving. Danny would kill him and then he’d be the one getting into trouble.
Why now? What did any of this have to come out? I was pulled into my dad’s tight embrace as I cried, letting out every bit of pain and anger I’d held onto since that night. It was time to push past it and truly move on as best as I could.
3
Daniel
The last couple of hours have been mind-blowing. I’d never been so ready to rip someone's head off as I was right now.
Easton McKnight was only alive because the Sheriff’s department came and took him off to jail. I winced as I shifted in my spot on the couch. I had a busted up rib or three, a broken nose, and enough bruises and scrapes to resemble an MMA fighter after a championship battle.
It was worth it. To defend her, to fight off her demons, I’d do it again over and over.
The quiet of the room, however, was getting to me. My brothers, Cody, and I were joined by Mr. McCall, Pops, and the Sheriff. He was looking at me with his serious face on. It made me nervous. The stare-off was interrupted by Mrs. McCall and Keisha coming in. She held a baby close, a bottle to its mouth. I shifted slightly, making room for her. She came and sat by me without a word.
Shock rolled through the room. She had been holding onto one hell of a secret. I leaned over, pressing a kiss to her temple. I hated that she couldn’t trust herself enough to open up to me before. I took in her scent and that of the baby: powder, milk, and just baby.
I closed my eyes, relaxing for the first time in as many hours.
“He has your eyes,” I said, softly.
“He does. The McCall trademark.”
I chuckled, stopping when my ribs protested.
“That’s what you get for being a dumbass.”
“Keisha!” Mrs. McCall looked in our direction, aghast at her daughter's words.
Me? Oh hell, I thought it was adorable. I leaned in closer, my breath fanning her face as I spoke. “For you, I’d tear down the world. Have you learned nothing from this friendship, woman?”
“Woman? Daniel Can—”
I didn’t let her finish. I claimed her mouth right there. Before family, friends, the Sheriff—they would all know how I felt about her. She needed to know that I was more than words. I would always be here, do what needed to be done for her and for her baby. Package deals were always the best part of life. You may not get what you bargained for, but it could be more. A way to grow together. To be something new. I pulled back, my busted lip protesting, and my heart, it was trying to beat out of my chest.
“Don’t pull that trigger unless you want more,” I teased, my words barely a whisper.
It was then that she cracked up. The bottle fell from the baby's mouth, and the protests started. I scooped up the bottle and put it back into his waiting mouth.
“Sorry, little man.” She looked sheepish. It was adorable. “Everyone, this is Atticus McCall. He’s a year old and a handful. Nanny said he is just like Dad as a baby.”
“Oh lord.” Mrs. McCall looked at her husband and grinned.
