Page 8 of Daddy Defender
Henry’s good. And he knows it too. But that doesn’t mean I’m about to trust him. No way. I learned my lesson with Vince. I’ve lived my life doing my thing, trusting my own instincts and making my own way. The biggest mistake I ever made was getting with a good looking asshole like Vince, thinking that he’d let me live my life and come and go as I please.
So while Henry might be good at observing me from across a bar, that’s nowhere near a good enough reason to bring him into my life and potentially increasing my chances of getting caught by Vince or one of his thugs.
“I’m waiting…” Henry says, standing tall and strong. “I’ve got a beer back inside that I’d love to get back to. But if you want my help, and I’d strongly suggest you take me up on my offer, then that beer can wait for another night.”
Henry thinks he’s so smart. The hint of sarcasm in his voice is really not a good look either. I don’t know if he thinks he’s being funny, but it’s certainly not washing with me. If anything, Henry’s smart-guy attitude is making me even less likely to entertain the idea of him helping me.
Don’t give him what he wants.
You don’t need him.
Trust your instincts…
“Nah, you’re good,” I say, deciding that the best option is to go it alone. “I got spooked. It was no big deal. I’m fine. So…”
“So?”
“So that’ll be us done then,” I say, doing my best to stop my eyes scanning over Henry’s admittedly very impressive upper body. Damn, he’s wearing his t-shirt well.Urgh. Whatever. “Have a nice life.”
“And you, boy,” Henry says, shaking his head and turning to walk back inside the bar. “Just don’t say I didn’t offer.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t!” I reply, suddenly getting very irritated with this big, gruff, smug stranger.
With that, I turn and walk toward my van—not too fast, not too slow, just at a normal pace. The last thing I want to do is make Henry think that I’m genuinely nervous or scared. The truth, of course, is that I’m frankly pretty damn terrified. I don’t know how convincing I was just now, but I’ve got a feeling that the quicker I get myself out of town, the better.
It’s me, Poot, and Shred.
The dream team.
No room for anyone else sticking their beak in and trying to play the savior. Not this time. And not ever.
I’m going to drive the van back to my overnight parking spot, get a couple of hours sleep, and then head out onto the road again before dawn.
Henry might not be in the same league as Vince, but I’m not going to stick around and find out either. It’s time for me to move on, head north, and leave all these asshole men behind me…for good.
“Okay, you’ve got this,” I say, my hands wrapped around the wheel, my destiny in my own hands.
Shred’s engine hums as I pull away from the bar, the gravel crunching under the tires, my hands gripping the steering wheel like it’s the only thing keeping me grounded.
The night air is cool, slipping through the slightly open window, but my heart’s still racing from that run-in with Henry.
Smug jerk.
Smug, big, handsome jerk.
Thinks he can read me like an open book, telling me I’m scared, like I don’t already know. I don’t need his help. I’ve got Shred, Poot, and my own damn instincts. That’s enough. It’salwaysbeen enough.
“What does he think he is… some kind of Daddy?” I scoff, shaking my head and letting out a snort of derision. “No way.”
The road stretches dark ahead, the beach a shadowy line to my left, waves whispering in the distance. I try to focus on the drive, but my mind’s a mess, spinning back to before Vince, before everything got so screwed up. Back when life was just me, the surf, and the open road…
I was nineteen when I ditched my parents’ college dreams and hit the coast with Shred, my surfboard strapped to the roof. And it was glorious.
I’d wake up to sunrise sessions, paddling out with other drifters, laughing as we chased monster waves.
Nights were bonfires, cheap beers, and stories swapped with whoever washed up on the shore.
I’d sketch the ocean in my notebook, Poot tucked in my bag, my Little side happy with a juice box and the freedom to justbe.
