I shake my head, adamantly. “No. I know him. He’d never do that.”

“You’re sure? ‘Cause if you think you’re in danger, I need to know about it.”

“I’m sure,” I vow, my voice steady. “Rocco would never come after me. I promise, Uncle Danny. I would never bring danger here. If I thought he’d do something, I’d leave.”

“You need to get that thought outta your head, ‘cause you’re not goin’ anywhere,” he corrects me, his tone final and sounding how I imagine a father would sound, talking to his daughter.

He grabs the plate of neglected pancakes and sticks them into the microwave, hitting a few buttons.

I look over at Hattie, waiting for her to soften his words somehow with her own version of them, but the only thing she gives me is a limp shrug.

You’re on your own, darlin.’

The microwave beeps, and he grabs the plate of pancakes and sets them back down in front of me. He flips open the cap on the syrup, holds it over the top of the tall stack, and waits for me to nod before he begins to pour.

“If you think that asshole is plannin’ on doin’ somethin,’ you tell me. I got a couple cop buddies I can call up.” He flips the cap closed and sets the bottle down, his other hand sliding the knife and fork in front of me. “You hear me, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” I answer, avoiding his eyes like a child who’s just been scolded.

“Any man who talks down to a woman, who puts his hands on her or does anything to make her feel inferior to him, ain’t a man in my book.”

I lift my head, meeting his gaze that has gentled considerably.

“I’ll have no problem teachin’ him some manners. You just let me know.” He holds his hand out to me, and the second I place mine in his, he slides his grip to the back of my hand and presses my palm against the silverware. “Eat. No more starvin’ for you.”

I love this man.

Danny walks over to Hattie and kisses her temple. “I’ll see ya in a few hours, babe.”

“Hold off the crazies for me.”

Danny gives me a rough pat on my head before he exits the kitchen, heading in the direction of the front door.

After fixing the mess he just made of my hair, I cut into the top two pancakes and shove a massive bite in my mouth. Hattie moves to stand across from me.

“Good?” she asks through a proud smile, as if she already knows the answer.

Sweet Mother of Bisquick.

I close my eyes through a moan as the buttermilk deliciousness bursts against my tongue. “Mm mmm. Sooo, so good,” I say through my mouthful, wiping the back of my hand across my chin when I feel the syrup running down my face.

I don’t care in the least that I probably look like a savage right now as I open my eyes and shovel another huge bite into my mouth. I’ve never been a modest eater. Besides, I think the greatest compliment you can give someone who cooked for you is showing them just how much you’re enjoying their food. And that’s exactly what I’m doing. Enjoying the hell out of my food.

I animatedly chew my mouthful as Hattie watches me, amused grin in place.

She drinks the last of her tea and deposits the glass into the sink behind her. Her hands smooth down the front of her white blouse that’s tucked into her jeans. Looking at Hattie is like looking at a healthy version of my momma. Her frame isn’t rail thin from the years of drug use. Her teeth aren’t decayed, or chipped, or missing. She’s beautiful. She’s what my momma should’ve been to the world, even though I always saw it.

“I’m going to be heading to work in a few hours. Everything in this house, the TV, the computer, all of it is yours to use. You don’t need to ask permission.” Hattie moves around the island and stops next to me, pushing in the stool she was occupying during my trip down memory lane.

“Where do you work?” I ask, licking the syrup off my lips.

“Danny and I own a pub in town. It’s this sweet little honky tonk bar.”

I smile, swinging my legs so that I’m facing her. “Oh really? Like line dancing and stuff?”

“Sometimes. There’s a bit of a rock crowd there too, so not too much line dancing.” She runs the back of her hand along my cheek, a gentle smile warming her face. “Are you gonna be okay by yourself?”

I want to say yes. The word is right there, on the tip of my tongue, but it won’t come out. It’s ridiculous, I know. I won’t be alone for that long, but for some reason, I can’t force myself to be okay with being alone for even a few minutes.

She cups my face with both hands. “You’re coming with me.”

I open my mouth to protest, because I don’t want her to feel like I’m some burden she has to babysit, but she speaks before I get a chance to so much as take in a breath.

“Anytime you want to tag along with me and Danny, you just let us know. You’re always welcome with us, Beth. Always, okay?”

She wants me there. I’m not a burden.

“Okay.”

“You better eat up,” she says, nodding toward the plate in front of me as she drops her hands to her side. “You’re gonna be subjected to bar food tonight.”

I smile at the thought of greasy burgers and fries covered in cheese as her footsteps trail off behind me.

Hell yes. Bring on the bar food.

Reed

“COFFEE?”

I look up from the counter I’m sitting at, peering over at Tessa as she stands at the Keurig. The dark blue, four sizes too big T-shirt she’s wearing has Ruxton Police Department in bold yellow letters displayed on the back. It’s tied in a knot at her waist, meeting the rolled up sweats she’s swimming in. I’m guessing everything on her belongs to Luke. There’s no way in hell Tessa owns any clothing that doesn’t show off her body one way or the other. I’ve known her since high school, and even though I’ve never seen her naked, I’ve gotten pretty damn close with some of that skimpy shit she wears.

She meets my gaze over her shoulder, holding up a mug. “You want some?”

“No, I already had several cups, thanks.”

I look around the kitchen as she goes about making her cup. It’s so homey in here, lived in, and warm. The whole house is. The wood on the cabinets is weathered with little nicks in it, the wall has one of those growth charts etched onto the paint with pencil, depicting Luke’s growth spurts, and one recent measurement of Tessa. If someone would’ve told me this was where hard-ass Luke Evans grew up, I wouldn’t have believed them. I always pictured him living in the Alabama backwoods like a savage, eating squirrels and small children. But with Tessa living here with him, it fits. Maybe it’s because they’re together, I don’t know. But it works.

“So, what’s up, and why aren’t you in bed with one of your whores?” She gives me a playful look over her shoulder, softening the blow of her dig.

I clasp my hands in front of me. “One of my whores? For your information, the woman I brought home last night was in law school.”

“Oh, perfect. She’ll know how to properly sue your ass for sexual harassment.” She giggles at her crack up, reaching across the island to mess up my hair. “Kidding. Sorry, but you pretty much set that one up perfectly.”