Page 115 of Her Daddies' Everything

Immy immediately started shifting her weight from foot to foot. “I think so?”

“You haven’t,” Sampson snapped.

“Immy,” Jenner said in a low, scolding voice. “You need to take your medication. You know that.”

Shit.

Wrong tactic to take, man.

Immy’s gaze narrowed, her face filling with temper. Tobias braced himself for her explosion. Instead, the knife she’d been holding slid through her fingers.

Fuck!

Did she just cut herself?

“Immy!” Jenner cried, jumping forward to grab her around the hips. He picked her up and set her on the counter. Tobias rushed around the island to check on Immy. Jenner was speaking to her in a low, calming voice as he studied her hand. She’d managed to slice the top of her hand open. But it didn’t look that bad.

“Oh, baby. Look what happened,” Jenner crooned. “My poor girl.”

“Hurts,” she whimpered. “I don’t like the blood.”

“I know you don’t. I’m going to get it all cleaned up. Sampson, grab the first-aid kit,” Jenner demanded in a frantic voice.

Hmm. Seemed an overreaction for a small cut.

Tobias fought the urge to push him away and take over. Instead, he studied Immy closely. He saw the way that she stared at Jenner longingly.

Fuck.

He was confident enough to believe that he could make her want him. But would she always have that longing inside her for Jenner?

Jenner finished doctoring her up, then he kissed the top of her hand before freezing. There was a strange look on his face.

One of anguish and fear.

And then he walked out of the kitchen.

“What. The. Fuck! Where does he think he’s going?” Sampson snarled. “Gonna have a word with him.”

“Don’t,” Immy said. “Please, just leave him alone.” Then she slid off the counter and took off as well.

What the fuck was that?

Ten minutes later,Tobias found himself knocking on Immy’s door. He knew that he should likely leave her alone. But he couldn’t stop worrying about her.

Not to mention that she still hadn’t taken her damn pills. He had them in his pocket.

To his surprise, she opened the door dressed in a tight top, black jacket and ripped jeans.

This wasn’t an Immy look.

She favored flowy skirts and dresses. Pastel colors. Not black and white. Had he even seen her in jeans?

“Immy?”

“I’m going out. I need a drink.”

“You’re going out? You need a drink?”

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