Teeth gritted, I wanted nothing more than to smash my hand through the drywall until my knuckles cracked and my skin bled, freeing the anger that boiled in my veins, scorching my insides, nearly rendering them to ash.
“Yo, Pop! What the fuck, old man!”
I came to a stop at my son’s concern-filled shout. Face tilted down at the floor, I placed my hands on my hips and took a breath, fighting with all my might to shorten the fraying leash I had on my shit mood.
I was pissed at the world, but my son didn’t deserve my wrath. He’d been served more than his fair share.
“Jesus, old man,” he said, his booted feet coming to a standstill feet from mine. “What in the hell is the matter with you? You’ve been a bigger dick than usual this shift.” Hand clasping my shoulder, he stepped closer. “The guys are all worried about you, Tuck included, and you know that’s saying something.”
Jaw ticking, I looked up, meeting his eyes. “I’m fine,” I gritted out, lying through my damned teeth. “Just dealing with some things.”
Dropping his hand, he quirked a brow. Arms crossed over his chest, he widened his stance. “Yeah? Let me ask you this”—he smirked—“does the shit you’re referring to have anything to do with your future wife?”
“My what?”
Grinning from ear-to-ear, my boy chuckled. “Don’t bullshit me, Pop. I saw the way you reacted when she was hurt, just as I saw the way you looked at her that morning in the motel.”
“And how was I looking at her?”
“Like she’s your everything.”
Three days had gone by since I’d last kissed my beautiful girl's lips or heard her enticing voice. In that time, I hadn’t so much as cracked the smallest smile. But when Hendrix spoke, acknowledging the feelings I’d hoped had been written all over my face, I beamed a grin so big my cheeks felt as if they’d split.
“I know what I’m talking about,” my kid continued, smirk doubling in size. “’Cause it’s the same way I look at Maddie.” He glanced over his shoulder before turning back my way. “You’re falling in love with her, aren’t you?” Shaking his head, he scrubbed his hand over his jaw. “Never mind, I already know the answer.”
Another chuckle.
“You better take care of her, that’s all I have to say. I mean, I get that she’s in a bad situation right now, one we’ve all gotta work to get her out of, but once she’s clear of trouble, you best treat her right or else you’ll be dealing with me.”
My eyes narrowed.
Did my kid just threaten me?
“Don’t look at me like that, you big bastard,” he said, giving me no chance to ask for clarification. “I can take you… I think.”
Tongue frozen to the roof of my mouth, I said nothing. I knew he was joking, that fact would’ve been clear to a blind man, but how was I supposed to kid around with him about stuff like that after he’d suffered insurmountable abuse at my hands?
Simply put, I couldn’t do it.
Reading my morbid thoughts, Hendrix’s face dropped. “Shit, Pop,” he said, readjusting his ever-present ball cap. “I didn’t mean to cut open those wounds.” Blowing out a breath, he leaned his head back, tilting his face toward the ceiling. “The past is in the past and I’m tired of what happened back then staining what we have now.” His eyes, ones identical to my own, met mine again. “Let it go, Dad,” he murmured, calling me by a name he’d never directed my way before. “I have.”
“You just called me dad.”
My throat tightened.
The one-sided brow quirk returned. “That’s who you are.”
“Hendrix—” I started.
“Cap!”
Mouth snapping shut, I leaned to the side and looked past my boy to Tuck, who stood at the opposite end of the hall, appearing irritated as could be. “What is it now, shithead?”
Raising his right hand, he flipped me off. “You’ve got company.”
Hope surged inside me.
“Who is it? If it’s—”
My words disappeared when Grandmama rounded the corner, carrying a wicker picnic basket in her aged hands. “It’s me and my purdy ol’ self, ya big dumb baby,” she shouted, bedazzled turquoise sandals slapping against the hard floor with each of her steps as she hobbled past the place where Tuck had stood seconds before.
Smarter than most when it came to her antics, he’d disappeared quick-like, avoiding the infamous Crazy Old Biddy ass grab that he would’ve suffered if he’d remained.
“I got a hankering for some fried chicken, tater salad, and cornbread while watching my soaps this afternoon, so I cooked enough to feed a whole dadgummed army. Figured I might as well drop it by here and feed you hoodlums. I ain’t asking for much in return either. Just some eye-candy.”
She winked my way, and Hendrix scowled.
“Crazy ass old woman,” he mumbled.
Reaching the place where my boy and I stood, she turned to him and shoved the well-loved wicker basket into his gut, making him grunt. “Take this to the kitchen for me. I meant to do it, but I got all turned around and couldn’t figure out which way to go. Hells bells, I know I act tougher than a two-dollar steak most days, but sometimes I get more confused than a fart in a fan factory and lose all sense of direction.”
Hendrix’s eyes narrowed. “English, Grandmama.”
Lips pursed, she placed her fisted hands on her rounded hips. “Listen here, turd burglar. If you take that tone with me again, I’m gonna pull out my flyswatter and tear your rear-end up, despite any objection my too-good-for-you granddaughter may have.”
I almost laughed at the look on my kid’s face. He was petrified. Not to mention a little offended. Clearly, I needed to intervene. “Grandmama, how about you—”
Swinging her fiery glare my way, she pointed a wrinkled finger in my direction. “You best not open your mouth, Superman. I’m already flat-out fed up with the likes of
