Page 76 of Married to Number 22
Works for me.
“Right,” I mutter, catching my dad’s eyes and hitching my head in the direction of the house. “That seems like as good a place as any to end this conversation.”
My dad nods and I know he and my mom are going to demand an explanation for this scene—and likely the whole getting married so Luna can save the world thing that, while noble, isn’t going to go over all that well.
My mom’s a romantic.
My dad’s pragmatic.
Taking on the Maybelles, no matter how noble, or how much I like—love—Luna isn’t a shitstorm they’re going to want me to endure.
Good thing I’m an adult.
Because I’m not letting Luna go, not again, not when I just got her back.
I shouldn’t have let her slip away in the first place.
But that’s a regret for another day.
My dad turns for the house, hitching his head for me to follow. But when I do, I’m stopped by a big, meaty hand on my shoulder.
And I don’t think.
I just react.
Poorly.
Whipping around, I grab John’s wrist and twist, shoving him back against the porch pillar. “Don’t touch me, you prick.” I step closer, my face an inch away from his. “And stay the fuck away from Luna or?—”
“Or what?” I hear Frank Maybelle say.
I twist my neck, see that he’s watching me closely, a calculating expression on his face.
“Or you’ll make threats?” he drawls. “Whatever will the Grizzlies think of that?” He taps a finger to his chin. “What will they think of one of their players harming an innocent man?”
Innocent.
Ha.
That’s a fucking joke.
My hand tightens.
John cries out in pain.
I should keep going, show his Frank what it feels like too…
“Aiden,” my dad says quietly.
And I hear the warning in his tone, know that he’s right.
Of coursehe’s right.
I can’t pummel John and/or Frank Maybelle into a pulp, no matter how much they may deserve it.
Damn.
Slowly, I peel my fingers my fingers from John’s wrist, taking no little amount of pleasure in the fact that he winces and clutches his arm to his chest. “You’ll regret this,” he snaps, glaring at me.
