Page 24 of Off-Limits Love
Here. “L-l-leave.”
Finn called himself every single name he could think of for stumbling with his speech now—now when Mak and Emi and Sam needed him as their protector—but he’d face those thoughts later. Right now the most important thing was to get Mak’s ex off Sam’s property.
Brad’s surprise was evident on his face before it changed to gleeful mockery. “Wow, still with the stutter? Dude, I mean, you kind of look like a badass, but let’s get real here. It’s hard to pull off when you’re still st-st-stuttering like an idiot. Ruins the effect, you know?” Brad’s mocking grin turned into loud obnoxious chuckles. “L-l-leave,” he said in that high-pitched tone all bullies seemed to have, like it’s assigned at birth or built into their DNA.
“Brad, that isenough. You need to go right now, or I’m calling the police,” Mak said.
Finn hated the way Makayla’s voice shook with her emotions. But was it from her upset with her ex—or that she was embarrassed by the fact the man defending her was being mocked and ridiculed instead?
Was he only making things worse for her?
What woman wanted that? Someone to defend her who couldn’t even defend himself—at least not verbally.
His anger surged to the breaking point as he saw red. His hands fisted tighter at his sides, and he took a step closer to Brad while all the memories—all the bullying, all the things that had been said about him and his speech over the years—slid through his head like a sick and twisted river of shame, tugging him beneath the surface.
“Fine, fine. If Finn says it again,” Brad said in a droll tone full of in-your-face attitude. “Come on, Finn. Order me to go, and maybe I’ll listen.”
The smile on Brad’s face caused Finn’s knuckles to pop. Brad and his group of so-called friends had been bullies their entire lives. It came as no surprise to see he still was one. And since he knew better than to lay his hands on the man as badly as he ached to, he tugged on Pepper’s reins to get her attention and then tapped her flank so that she’d sidestep as trained.
Finn kept tapping, Pepper kept side-stepping, until Brad had to scramble over the closed door of his flashy, open-top convertible or be pinned against it by a thousand pounds of horse.
“Get that filthy animal away from my car!”
Brad’s curses rang out with every breath as he climbed over the bucket seats into the driver’s side and punched the engine to a roaring start. Pepper shied away from the loud noise with a jerk of her head and wide-eyed glare at the cause but didn’t try to bolt from Finn’s side. He’d never been prouder or loved a horse more than in that moment.
He rubbed Pepper’s nose to soothe her and whispered against her soft coat, praising her, and got a snuffling, nose blow in return, as if Pepper said good riddance to Brad in Horse.
“This isn’t over, Mak!”
Mak turned her back to the spray of sand and dust, still cradling Dash protectively in her arms as her ex shot out of there like a petulant child. He slung the car around to exit, flipping them off as he went.
A loud squeal of tires entering the highway sounded seconds later. In the quiet of the aftermath, Finn saw Makayla eyeing him warily.
“Finn… I’m so sorry. What Brad said—the way he behaved. I amsosorry.”
Finn swung up into the saddle and nudged Pepper the two steps it took to bend down and pluck Dash from Mak’s arms. He didn’t bother trying to speak because right now anger boiled the very blood beneath his skin. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t verbalize the words he wanted to say to her in regard to her ex, and he knew it.
He couldn’t tell her that she deserved better. He couldn’t say her ex was a piece of work and unworthy of her and Emi or a second more of their time.
He couldn’t say anything—because a man who couldn’t speak wasn’t worthy of them, either.
ChapterEight
By Wednesday of that week, Mak felt like a bad person for not making another attempt to apologize to Finn.
She’d exchanged heated texts with Brad, who continued to threaten everything from going back to court for custody to suing Finn and Sam because the horse supposedly scratched his new car.
She called him out on the lie, pointing out the only way it could’ve been scratched was if he had scratched it climbing over the door rather than opening it, and that he’d been asked to leave multiple times.
Now she sat at a table inside of London’s Lattes and split her attention between Emi, where she sat and flipped through a book over in the kids’ play area, and the large group of women occupying a couple of tables across the room.
The group was obviously together, and if she guessed correctly, the second table was made up of nannies or babysitters. Either that or they were a really large group of sister wives.
The first table held the majority of ladies, with the second only occupied by three adults and several kids of various ages.
Her gaze shifted back to Emi, and Mak breathed a small sigh of relief. She’d taken Emi to her counseling appointment as recommended by her pediatrician.
Apparently Mak was the one wearing the chaos on her face because the counselor’s partner, Zoey Barnes-Davenport, had entered the waiting room where Mak paced, her too astute gaze seeing all. In seconds flat, the counselor had informed her partner she was taking Emi’s mama into her office to talk.
