Page 98 of Keeping Kaitlyn

“Yeah…” Staring back at him, I tighten my hold on Kait because it’s suddenly not about helping her keep herself in check. It’s about not reaching out and breaking his goddamned neck. “I’m him.”

Mook, his massive head still pressed against his mistress’s knee, lets out a low-level growl that pushes Brock back and drops his hand back to his side.

I’m buying him a bacon factory as soon as we get home.

“Hi, Kaity,” Abbey says, filling the charged silence like she knows exactly what I’m thinking about doing. “I—” Taking a half step forward, she stops and reaches back to pull something out from behind her.

A kid.

When she sees him, Kait flinches.

Crouching down next to him, Abbey takes both his hands and smiles. “Thomas, this is your Aunt Kaity.” Sending a timid smile in her sister’s direction, she stands. “Kaity, this is Thomas, my son.”

Myson.

Notourson.

The look on Brock’s face tells me Abbey is going to pay for that later.

When the boy hesitates, Kait manages to collect herself enough to step forward and crouch down next to her little sister. “Hi, Thomas, I’m happy to meet you.”

Shooting his father a look almost as timid as his mother’s, the boy gives Kait a nervous smile, looking up at her with dark brown eyes. “Hi,” he says before looking at Kait and Abbey’s mother. “Grandma, did you make any cookies?”

Smiling down at him, Hillary nods. “You know I did, but you know who makes the best cookies I’ve ever had?” Dropping her hand on Kait’s shoulder, she gives it a squeeze. “Your Aunt Kaity, here. Her peanut butter chocolate chip put mine to shame.”

Giving Kait a skeptical look, he reaches for his grandmother’s hand. “Can I have one?” Before she can answer, he raises a nervous look to his father. “Can I, Dad?”

Giving Kait another nasty smirk, Brock puffs out his chest. “Sure thing, partner. Go on with your grandma but don’t have too many or you’ll spoil your supper.”

Leading her grandson into the house, Hillary stops on the porch steps long enough to say something to her husband. Tom doesn’t look happy about it but he nods his head to whatever she said before she ushers her grandson inside.

“Come inside, the two of you,” Tom says, his tone hardening as he watches Kait slowly lift herself from her crouch. Shooting me afuck yousmirk, Brock starts to move toward the house but Tom stops him. “Just the girls. We got family matters to discuss. That dog stays outside.” By his tone and the way he’s looking at me, I can’t tell if he’s talking about me or Mook.

Kait shoots me an apologetic look. “Went?—”

“It’s okay.” Coming toward her, I wrap an arm around her waist and drop a kiss on top of her head. “We’ll be right here when you get back.” Letting her go, I have the insane urge to snatch her back and throw her in the truck when she and Abbey start to make their way to the house.

As soon as they disappear with a bang of the screen door, I follow after them, Mook on my heels. Mounting the porch steps, I see a pair of sturdy looking chairs, identical to the one I remember being on the porch at Northpoint.

Lowering myself into one of them, I give Mook an ear rub when he whines at the screen door Kait disappeared behind. “She’ll be back,” I tell him, gaze aimed over the porch railing at the man still standing in the yard. He’s pissed at being excluded from whatever business Tom has with his daughters. I have a feeling that’s something Kait’s little sister is going to pay for too.

As soon as Mook settles, his big block head resting on my boot, I reach for my phone and text my brother.

Me: Why didn’t you tell me Tom fired you?

Catching movement in my peripheral, I look up from my phone to watch Brock stalk his way across the yard. Gone is the shit eating,I had her firstsmirk, his intentions clear as he stomps up the porch steps.

“You’re not going in there,” I tell him in a conversational tone that stops him midstride.

Reaching up, he makes a show of taking off his cowboy hat before setting it on the railing. “That right?”

“Sure the fuck is.” Still seated, I look up at him, arms loose and ready. “And before you ask, you so much as reach for that door, I’ll drag you off this porch and beat the breaks off you. Again.”

“You have any idea who you’re fucking with, boy?” Brock growls at me, fists clenched. “You might be some big?—”

“I know exactly who I’m fucking with,” I growl back. “I’m fucking with a piece of shit who drives a sleeping woman into the woods and wakes her up, just to rape her.” Reaching up, I run a finger down my forehead, tracing a line that mimics the ugly, puckered scar that runs from his hairline to his eyebrow thatwas hidden by his hat until now. “Guess they don’t have plastic surgeons in the valley, huh?”

Before he can answer me, the screen door creaks and Kait’s mother steps out on the porch, a big ceramic bowl on her hip and Abbey’s son in tow.

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