Page 71 of One Last Chance

But my thoughts, loud as they were in my own head, didn’t make it to hers. She looked back down at her plate.

“Don’t take this wrong, son, but it ain’t about trust,” David said. “You’re hanging around my kid. Last time you did that, my kid ended up dead. You know what they say. Keep your friends close, and your loose cannons closer.”

His grin came about three seconds too late to be convincing. He was dead serious. I grinned back at him, playing dumb.

“Hey, at least you didn’t say enemies,” I said lightly.

“There’s still time.”

I took a bite and chewed slowly.

“Well,” I said. “Honestly, I hope it doesn’t ever come to that. I wouldn’t want to be your enemy, and I certainly wouldn’t want to be Daisy’s. You guys are the closest thing to family that I still have.”

With beer number five in hand, David snorted. He was wobbling a little on his chair now. That combined with the tinge of red on the tip of his nose made me certain the alcohol was starting to get to him. “Just don’t go trying to make us blood family, boy. I’m too damn young to be a grandpa.”

I chuckled along with him and took a drink of beer. He watched me like a hawk, his head slightly tilted. Daisy had stopped eating entirely and sat with her hands clasped firmly in her lap, even tenser now than she was five minutes ago. What the fuck was going on here?

“Unless I’m too late with that warning,” David said, his voice dropping half an octave.

“Hm?” I asked, my mouth full of food.

“You been sleeping with my daughter, boy?”

Sleeping? No, not really. Oh, wait, there was that one time and then that other time and—I should have just shaken my head. The two seconds of hesitation while I chewed was way, way too long. David’s congenial demeanor dropped like a rock. Tendons bulged in his neck, his eyes bugged, and the redness spread from his nose across his nose. I tried to swallow quickly, thinking that words were probably better than a frantic gesture at this point, and choked on a bite.

David shoved the table back as he lunged to his feet, sending beer bottles clattering and crashing to the floor. Daisy and Sandy jumped out of their own chairs and got away from the table. Just in time, too, because then David grabbed the edge of the table and threw it aside. Dishes smashed against the counter and wall, food splattered all over the floor, and a puddle of beer and tea swirled out from the upended table.

I was on my feet then, instinctively standing between David and the women. I’d finally dislodged the lump of meat in my throat and had my hands up.

“Hold on,” I said, then coughed hard. Bits of meatloaf flew around my throat, ruining all of my attempts to speak.

“Hold on? Hold on?! You think a little shit like you is gonna tell me what to do in my own goddamn house?! Boy, you better run and hope I don’t call the cops on you for raping my daughter.” He took two long strides toward me, his hands balled into fists.

“I—what?! No, I never did that!” I shot an appalled look at Daisy, who seemed to be frozen in place.

Where was my hotheaded warrior queen? My panicked look seemed to loosen her tongue.

“Daddy, he didn’t, I swear it,” she said, lurching forward slightly as though she had to force her legs to move.

“You touched my daughter!” His meaty fist was swinging at my head now. I dodged and backed toward the door, leading him away from Daisy and Sandy.

“I never did anything to her that she didn’t want,” I said, my mind spinning through the complicated truth-selection process a little too fast. That was most definitely not the right thing to say.

“Are you calling my baby a whore?!” This punch collided squarely with my solar plexus, knocking the wind out of me. White-hot pain radiated through my arms as my muscles seized, and I coughed again, still trying to dodge. I could have taken him down, easily, but I couldn’t bring myself to hurt Daisy’s dad. Not in front of her. If I had, I was pretty sure she would never forgive me.

“Daddy, stop! He’s not calling me a whore. I’m sorry, please stop! He never hurt me, I swear!”

“Of course you’d say that, you little slut,” David snarled.

“Don’t talk to her like that!” I hissed.

I got in his face again before he could turn on Daisy, and put myself right in the way of his lumbering fist. Was he really about to fucking hit her? A monster roared inside of me, begging me to flatten him. Begging me to give him at least a hint of what he was about to give her. A saner, more controlled part of me knew that wasn’t the way to go. Call it pussy-whipped or whatever, but I couldn’t do something I knew Daisy wouldn’t forgive me for. Despite everything that was happening here, Daisy fucking loved her dad. Honestly, though, I wasn’t sure why. If this was his usual behavior, love should be one of the first things to fly out the window.

David knocked me against the flimsy wall, and I felt it give way. He pulled me back up by my collar, smashing my nose against his forehead. Blinded by bright white pain I struggled and thrashed until the floor fell out from under my feet. There wasn’t much more this that I would take. I wasn’t a fucking punching bag and even though I had a hold on my temper, I wasn’t sure it would last much longer. When David gripped my shirt in his fist, I didn’t struggle. It wouldn’t be an understatement to say that I allowed him to shove me through the front door and out of his house. A second later my head ricocheted off the dirt outside, sending a pulse of black through the white behind my eyes.

“Stay the fuck away from my daughter!” David’s voice was warped by the ringing in my ears. I struggled to my feet in time to see the door slam shut. Daisy watched me through the window, her face pale and drawn, her expression blank. I wanted to charge back in there and take the old man down. She could see it in every line of my body, and she waved me away.Go, she mouthed.Please go. Dammit, Daisy.

Fine. I turned my back on her whole family and climbed up into my truck. I would go, for her sake—but this was far, far from over.

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