Surly Romance (Billionaire Dads)

DARREL

“It didn’t break the skin,” Sunny murmurs to my back. She opens the first aid kit and pulls ointment out of it. “But it’s extremely red and…” She touches my skin and I flinch, “sensitive to the touch.”

“Your mom is surprisingly strong.” My words are muffled by the pillow in Sunny’s couch. After Mrs. Quetzal accused me of being a burglar, slammed down the letter of the law on my back, and then explained—in no uncertain terms—that I should not be having long-term thoughts about her daughter, she stormed out.

In the silence that followed, Sunny stiffly disappeared into her bedroom, returned with the first aid kit and told me to lie on my stomach.

Now, I’m sniffing her perfume that’s trapped in a frilly blue pillow and eyeing the ruler that probably left a permanent mark on me. It’s lying on the floor, still long and wooden. With all the force Mrs. Quetzal used, I’m surprised that thing didn’t snap in half.

“I’m so sorry.” Sunny pours a balm on the tips of her dark fingers.

“Don’t be sorry. I should have hid better or gone out the back door.” In the moment, when Sunny was gesturing for me to get out of sight, I found two potential hiding places—it was either the couch or the filmy white curtains.

Since I’m a big guy and, sadly, I’m not skilled at camouflage, the curtains were a no-go. But the couch didn’t work out either. Maybe it would have been better if I’d jumped out the window and took my chances with the ground three floors down. Probably would have hurt less than Mrs. Quetzal’s brutal spanking.

“No, I’m sorry you had to hide in the first place.” Sunny gently rubs her fingers against my injured skin. It feels good, but it stings a little too. I clench my jaw so I don’t bawl out like a baby.

“I understand.”

“What part of this is understandable?”

“Your mom wants the best for you.”

“You’re being gracious. Mom only wants the best for our community.”

“The Mayan community?”

She nods. “I think she feels guilty for leaving the village and coming to America.” Her touch is whisper-soft. Like butterfly wings. It’s soothing and warm. “Growing up, she turned our house into a mini-Belize. We celebrated every Belizean holiday like we’d get a citizen’s award for it. And if there was a Mayan kid anywhere in our neighborhood, she foisted them on me and forced us to be friends.”

“Your mom is only acting out what her brain is wired to do.”

“Do not defend her behavior with your brain science, Darrel, or I swear I’ll grab that ruler and smack you again.”

I turn my head to the other side so I can look at her. “Is that a Mayan thing?”

“Threats?”

“Assaulting men with measuring equipment.”

She snorts. “Fine. Give me your brain science.”

“You want to hear?”

“You’re going to tell me whether I agree or not.”

I press my hands into the pillow. “The amygdala is a component of the limbic system in the brain…”

“Here we go.”

“It controls our emotions, perceptions of threats and fears…”

“Wow.” Sunny removes her hands from my back.

“… Perhaps when your mom sees someone who could be a threat to her culture or her community, the amygdala gives a more intense electrical charge…”

She caps the balm and puts it back in the first aid kit. “I’m so interested in this.”

“… it could explain why she has a visceral, negative reaction to the fact that I’m crazy about you.”

Sunny moves in front of me so I can see her face. “Don’t do that.”

“I’m trying to explain why I understand.”

“You are sexy when you go full nerd. But you’re injured. My mom is pissed. I still have work to do. Now isn’t the right time to jump on you. I need to control myself.”

“No, you don’t.”

She gives me a stink look.

“And I’m not a nerd.”

“Geek? Is that the proper term? I always get those two mixed up.” Her eyes are dark and her skin is glowing and she’s sparkly. I’ve never seen a human being sparkle as much and as brightly as Sunny Quetzal.

Damn, she’s stunning.

“Nerd refers to someone with a high IQ and propensity for academics,” I inform her. “Geek is usually reserved for someone who’s enthusiastic about something, not necessarily what they’re good at. Like a history buff. Or someone obsessed with slasher movies.”

“See?” She whips her hand through the air. “One and the same.”

My lips quirk up. “They’re different.”

“Must everything be an argument with you?” Her eyes narrow, but her tone is amused.

“Our brains function differently. For us, arguing is inevitable.”

“Then you should run now because I don’t like to be wrong. I’m… allergic to it.”

“What if I’m right on occasion? Can’t you accept that?”

“No, because even when I’m wrong…”

“You’re right?”

Laughter resounds in her voice. “Hey, maybe I will give you a chance.”

I smile.

Sunny doesn’t. She wraps her arms around her knees. Her shoulders slump and her eyes dim like the sun leaving because of a storm. I feel the loss of her smile keenly. I’d do anything to put it back on her face.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.

“Stop apologizing.”

“You got whipped by my mother.”

“And I’m whipped for you. Figuratively.” I eye the ruler in mistrust. “I’d like you to burn that thing.”

She laughs and then leans forward and kisses my forehead. “I heard the thump your head made when it hit the ground. Sounded painful.” Leaning forward, she kisses my head again. “I hope it stops hurting soon.”

“I smacked my cheek too.” I point there.

She kisses my cheek.

“The other side got dinged pretty bad.”

She chuckles and presses her lips to just above my jaw. “Did you really have to tell my mom you were crazy about me?”

“I didn’t want to lie to your mother and make a bad impression.” I capture her wrist when she tries to lean back.

Her smile makes my heart flip. “Yeah, you definitely avoided making a bad impression.”

“I agree. I think she likes me.”

Sunny bursts out laughing. “You’re funny. I didn’t notice until recently.”

“I wasn’t being funny earlier.” I stare intently at her until the twinkle leaves her eyes and I know she’s hearing what I’m saying. “I meant what I said to her.”

“You said a lot of things to her. I think she got angrier with every word that left your mouth.”

I slide my thumb over her cheek. “I didn’t mean to make her angry, but I did feel the need to declare my intentions. I don’t know how we’re going to convince her, but I’ll put all my effort into it.”

“You’ll never be Mayan.”

“I can learn everything I can about it.”

“It doesn’t matter. She’s not going to stop matchmaking me with men like Gabor.”

“Then I’m not going to stop attending your blind dates with you.” I shrug. “The first one worked out really well.”

“What?”

“Gabor was a nice guy. We follow each other on social media now.”

Her jaw drops. “You didn’t.”

“He shares great farming tips. It’ll help me level up my gardening skills.”

“Darrel.”

“I’m glad we went on that date with him.”

Sunny laughs again. “You’re insufferable.”

“I love it when you show off your vocabulary.”

“At least I have something to show from studying Literature for four years.” Her eyes flick to my lips. Her elbows are staked into the sofa and she’s so close I can see the flecks of brown in her eyes. “Unlike some people who studied business and then went back to school to study science. Such slackers.”

“I’d be ashamed if I were them.”

She chuckles and leans closer.

My breathing slows. I rub my fingers over her knuckles.

Sunny traces my lips with her finger. “Are we really doing this?”

“Kissing?”

“Dating. A few months ago, we hated each other. Now, we’re—”

“In a relationship.”

“Right.”

“A relationship with an end goal.” I study her eyes because this part is important. “It’s me and the boys. We’re a package deal.” I tilt my head, recalling her mother’s valid concerns. “You’re still young. If that’s too much for you—”

She places a finger to my lips. “I love Micheal and Bailey. The deal is sweeter because of them.”

My heart squeezes.

If I don’t taste her lips right now, I’m going to combust.

I lean over and press a kiss to her mouth, loving the way her breath hitches and her eyelashes flutter like they can’t hold themselves up anymore.

“I don’t break my promises.” I wrap my arms around her waist. “You’re stuck with me now.”

“Sounds like delicious torture.”

I hoist her on top of me, forgetting that I got walloped with a stick and my back isn’t ready to be thrusting into couches yet. The full weight of Sunny presses me down and I hiss without meaning to do so.

Sunny gets frantic. “Darrel, your back.”

“Give me a second,” I growl. I let the wave of pain pulse over me and then I get myself together. There’s no way I’m giving up an opportunity to kiss Sunny Quetzal.

Flipping her over, I settle her on her back and push myself up so I’m hovering on top of her perfect body.

“This is the benefit of dating a nerd.” She locks her hands around my neck. “You’re all about problem solving.”

“Not a nerd.”

“I find nerds hot.”

“Hello, my name is Nerd.”

She laughs. “That is so lame.”

I smile.

She touches my cheek and tilts her head, her eyes glistening with awe. “I haven’t seen you do that much.”

“What?” I turn her wrist over and press a kiss to it.

“Smile at me.”

My heart tugs painfully. I spent so much time trying to convince myself that I hated this woman—first for the things that had gone down in the past, and then for the way she kept butting heads with me in the present.

“Sunny, I—”

She jerks me down and glues her mouth to mine. Easing back, she breathes, “Less apologizing. More kissing.”

Sounds like a good deal to me.

We smile as we lean close again. Our lips meet in a sweet, forever kind of kiss.

I feel as light as a damn feather. My body. My mind.

My fingers cradle her cheek as we kiss. I let her set the pace at first. Let the moment stretch out because I don’t want it to end. Then I get impatient.

I grip her chin and tilt her head so I can deepen the kiss. My hungry hands rake over her body, stroking up her thighs, over her belly and chest, and back down again.

My heart elevates until I hear alarm bells. Even then I don’t stop touching her. I want to be acquainted with every nook and cranny of her. Every part of her that makes her sing or grunt or gasp for mercy.

She hooks her leg around my waist. With her foot hoisted up, her skirt scrunches and gives me access in a way I’ve only dreamed of.

My hands lock around her knee and scrape upwards, tugging at the hem of her shapely, green dress. The fabric is soft to the touch and it glides smoothly over her thighs.

Sunny’s hands rove my chest and down to my pants that are straining against her. Her hands are hot and heavy. I’m about to explode from the mere friction of our bodies writhing on the couch.

Clothes. I need clothes off.

Hers first.

I need to see her. Feel her.

My hands slip under her dress and scrape against her upper thighs. I feel lace and my head gets dizzy.

Sunny Quetzal is wearing lace underwear.

I scrape my knuckles over it.

She whimpers.

“Sunny,” I grind out.

She curses. “It’s so hot when you growl my name. Do it again.”

“So demanding,” I murmur, kissing her neck and plucking the lace so I can work it down her legs.

An unwelcome gust blows through the room as the front door bangs open and footsteps pound the ground. “Girl, you will not believe—eep!”

That high-pitched squeal sounds familiar, but I can’t place it because my brain is too busy tilting off axis.

Must get Sunny naked. Must ride Sunny into the sunset. Must have her for dinner and dessert and breakfast.

I force my thoughts away from Sunny’s intoxicating body, trying to find the will to scramble off her. That choice is taken away from me when she bucks like a wild donkey and kicks me off the couch with so much force, I land on my back. The pain that rattles my body makes me groan.

Sunny scrambles toward me. “Darrel, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to do that. Are you okay?”

“What is going on here?” Kenya demands. She’s facing the door, her hands propped over her eyes.

“I’m fine.” I hold a hand out to Sunny so she stops worrying. “I’m fine.”

“Sunny! Explain!”

“I can’t believe I forgot to lock the door.”

Kenya whirls around and plants her hands on her hips. Despite her tightening eyebrows, a smile flirts with her mouth. “That’s what you’re worried about? I have a key. I would have caught you either way.”

“Dang it. She’s right.” Sunny pushes the skirt of her dress back down and smoothes her hair. “I can explain. But first I’ll need my key back.”

“Why? You plan on doing this more often?”

“I certainly do,” Sunny says.

My frontal cortex is being overloaded with hormones. It’s sending way too many jolts of electricity to my pants.

“I’m still waiting for an explanation.” Kenya looks expectantly at me. “Are you two hooking up now?”

“We’re dating,” I say simply.

Sunny shoots me a stunned look.

I nod at Kenya and rise to my feet as calmly as I can. Her eyes dip to my pants and then her smirk widens. “Dating?”

I clear my throat. “That’s correct.”

“Don’t you hate her?” Kenya points between me and Sunny. “And isn’t it the same on your side, Sunny? A few days ago, you spent three hours ranting about how Darrel was an emotionless robot—”

Sunny pounces on her best friend and covers her mouth. “Darrel, you should head out now.”

“Mmf mmf mm!” Kenya’s brown eyes widen and she flails her arms.

“I can spare a few more minutes,” I say easily.

“Your patients are waiting.” Jutting her chin at the door, Sunny mumbles, “I’ll call you later.”

As I leave Sunny’s apartment, I hear Kenya sputter and then yell, “Ew! Darrel-germs. Girl, I don’t know where your hands have been!”

I laugh and close the door softly behind me.

Dina gives me a strange look in the office and it’s only then I realize that I’m humming.

“You okay, Hastings?”

“Never better.”

Her eyebrows hike, but she doesn’t ask any more questions. We discuss the schedule for the day and I pretend not to notice her concerned glances.

I know she’s worried. I know why she’s worried too. The last time we spoke, I had a mini-breakdown when she suggested I call myself a father.

Not a good look. I’ll work on that.

But for now, I’m going to celebrate my wins.

Sunny Quetzal is my woman.

I don’t know how I got so lucky, but I’m going to bask in it for as long as I want.

The first client arrives and I focus on the session. As soon as they’re gone, I grab my phone and send Sunny a text. She texts back, letting me know that she shooed Kenya out of her apartment and she’s working on a new design concept.

A knock on the door announces the second client. I answer Sunny quickly and then set the phone away. It continues like that all day until the last client leaves.

Dina pokes her head through the door and delivers the case notes. “Darrel, do you have a minute?”

“Sure,” I say distractedly, looking at my phone. “But just a minute.”

“I want to talk about our conversation yesterday.”

My heart freezes.

“You shared a bit of what you’d been through with me, but I think you should consider telling someone the full story. Alistair or Kenya or even a professional.”

My fingers curl into fists. “Tell them what? That I have a problem with the word ‘dad’?”

“That you had an abusive father.”

I stiffen.

“You don’t want to call it that. Fine. In a way, you still look up to him and respect him for what he accomplished when he was alive. That’s okay too. But you’re internalizing the hurt you experienced as a child. It’s all bubbling out now that you have children of your own. It’s going to affect the way you raise them. The way you see yourself. And the way you approach fatherhood in the future.”

I open my mouth.

She lifts a hand. “Yes, Darrel. They are your children now. Just like I consider you as a son. Perhaps it’s even more intense than that, as you want to be legally responsible for their welfare.”

“It’s different.”

“You insisting that it’s different is concerning.”

“I’m not going to hurt them.”

“I didn’t say you were.”

“I’d die first.”

“Exactly.” She juts her chin down. “I don’t want you to have that kind of intense emotion when it comes to parenthood.” Her fingers curl over my shoulder. “Because parenting doesn’t come with a handbook. We’re going to make mistakes no matter how hard we try because we’re human. We’re flawed. We’re fragile. We break and then we find a way to put ourselves back together again. I want you to give yourself grace, Darrel. You deserve that.”

I swallow hard, her words knocking solidly against my chest.

My phone rings.

I lift it, glad for an excuse to cut the conversation short. “It’s Sunny.” I show her the screen as if I need to provide evidence.

Her smile is gentle. “I like her for you.”

“Because she acts first and thinks about it later?”

“Because she gives herself the grace to try even if it means making a mistake. You can learn from each other.” Dina pats my hand. “I’ll start taking off my computer and locking up. Something tells me you’re going to leave work right on time today.”

I close the door behind her, lean against it, and put the phone to my ear. “Sunny.”

“Wow.” She exhales through the phone. “I used to hate the way you growled my name, but now it drives me crazy.”

“I’m not growling.”

“You don’t even know you’re growling. That’s ten times hotter.”

I smile, but it’s muted because I’m still thinking about my conversation with Dina. “Did you finish the design concept?”

“Yes. Barely.” She pauses. “The boys should be finished with school around now.”

“I’m going to pick them up. You want to come with me?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

I stop by a Caribbean bakery for some jam rolls and coffee before swinging by Sunny’s apartment.

She’s waiting downstairs, looking like summer personified in a red and green top and shorts that show off her long legs. Her hair’s falling around her shoulders except for one section that’s held back in a clip.

She bounces into the car before I can open the door for her. “Hey.”

“Hey.” My eyes drop over her body. I don’t know what to focus on first. She’s just that distracting.

“You ready for this dance class tonight?” She grabs her seatbelt and tugs.

“Uh…”

“I love to dance. I used to drag Kenya to all these different salsa clubs when we were in college. The music speaks to me. It’s similar to a kind of Mayan sound called… Darrel?” She waves a hand in front of my face. “Are you listening?”

“Yes.” I cough.

Her smile is mischievous.

“What?”

“You’re checking me out.”

“Am I?”

“And making it painfully obvious.” She chuckles. “It’s cute how awkward you are.”

“I’m not awkward.”

“You’re a nerd with, like, five facial expressions. If that’s not awkward, I don’t know what is.”

I release my seat belt, propel myself over to her side of the car and hover over her. “Call me a nerd again. I dare you.”

Her eyes go dark and she visibly swallows, but she doesn’t follow my warning. Pushing out her lips, she whispers, “Nerd.”

I attack her side with my fingers, tickling her so hard that her hands flail and her long legs coil up.

“Darrel!” She pants, laughing and squirming.

“Scientists found that being tickled stimulates the hypothalamus.” I duck when she swipes at my head and move my hands down to her belly. “That’s the area of the brain in charge of your emotional reactions.”

“I’m going to… ha! I’m going to kill you.”

“Did you know that when you’re tickled, you laugh because you’re having an automatic-reflex response? It’s not necessarily because it’s—oof.” My explanation is cut short when her elbow collides with my jaw.

“Oh my gosh. I’m so sorry!” She freezes.

I test my jaw and, thankfully, nothing feels shattered. “You Quetzal women are just… intent on beating me up today, aren’t you?” I frown.

“That’s why you shouldn’t mess with us.”

I groan loudly. “Isn’t this the second time you’ve elbowed me in the jaw?”

“Kiss and make it better?” Sunny grabs my face, but the kiss doesn’t last long because she smiles and I end up puckering up to her teeth.

She laughs. “Sorry. You’re just… cute.”

“It’s better than being a nerd.”

“True.”

“And you’re wrong about one other thing.” I start the car.

“What?”

“I have six expressions.”

She throws her head back and laughs.

I smile, slide my fingers in hers, and drive to pick up the rest of my family.

“Where’s Micheal?” I tap my watch. Middle schoolers flood the pick-up lane where I’ve been parked for a few minutes. I search their faces, looking for a particular head of curly hair.

“He’s usually here,” Bailey says, peeking out from the car window.

“Let me call him.” Sunny, who’s still in the front seat, plucks her phone out of her purse.

“Oh, look! I see him!”

I glance in the direction Bailey’s pointing and notice a small boy shuffling through the crowd with his head down. He’s got a hoodie on and he looks like he’s fighting to blend in.

I get a flashback to my own high school persona and my instincts send up alarms. Something’s wrong. It’s hot out here. Why is Micheal all covered up in a jacket and hoodie?

Sunny must have that same question because she shoos me aside and climbs out of the car. “Hey, Mike. You okay?”

“Yeah,” he murmurs. Sticking his hands into his pockets, Micheal stares at the ground so the hood of his jacket covers his face.

“You sure?” Sunny insists. Her voice is light, but I can see the way her eyes are narrowing.

Micheal nods.

“Then what’s that on your shirt?” Sunny points to his jacket.

Micheal glances down and Sunny uses that opportunity to drag his hoodie back. Ice crawls through my veins when I see the bruises on Micheal’s face. My eyes lock on the split in his lip and a surge of protective instincts rushes over me.

I control the rage because I have more practice doing so.

Sunny… does not.

“Who did this to you?” Sunny asks in a low voice. Her eyes are black marbles, gleaming with murderous intent. Tension coils her shoulders and she cracks her neck from side to side. “Who, Micheal?”

Micheal quickly flings the hoodie back on his head. “It’s nothing.”

“Nothing?” Sunny grabs his chin and tilts his face up. “You call this nothing? You were obviously in a fight.”

“Sunny.” I touch her elbow. We’re in a public setting and Micheal is clearly uncomfortable exposing his injuries—or the story behind them—to us. Reason dictates that we take him home and address this in a more controlled environment.

Sunny sucks in a deep breath through her mouth as if she needs more oxygen than her nostrils can provide for her. Eyes sliding closed, she whispers, “Micheal, I’m going to give you three seconds to explain, very clearly, what happened today.”

“It’s nothing.” Micheal kicks at a rock. He’s speaking in the angsty middle-schooler grumble that forces me to lean forward so I can hear.

“The truth, Micheal,” Sunny hisses.

Micheal does a hard, obvious swallow. “Ebenezer… cornered me by my locker today.”

“You fought with him?” Sunny asks, her voice tight.

“No.” Micheal lifts his head. Brown eyes lock on Sunny like a lost puppy. “I remember what you said. I made a choice.”

Sunny recoils. Fingers trembling, she clips the bridge of her nose and rubs briskly. “Micheal, I didn’t mean that you shouldn’t defend yourself. Did you just stand there and let him beat you up?”

Micheal glances away.

Sunny’s face hardens. With slow, measured movements, she scoops her hair up and ties it back in a ponytail.

“Where is he?” Sunny asks quietly.

I hurry to her and grab her arm. “Sunny, what are you going to do?”

“I’m going to find Ebenezer and I’m gong to beat the snot out of him. That’s what I’m going to do.”

Micheal whips his head up.

Bailey gasps.

I release Sunny’s hand and then immediately grab it again. I’m torn between being the voice of reason and holding her purse while she kicks Ebenezer into the dirt. He’s a minor. Violence is an outlandish response to the situation, but anger is clouding my judgement.

I thought my irrational side was preserved for Sunny alone. I was wrong. Logic is flying out the window now that one of my boys are hurt.

“Where is he?” Sunny barks, her fingers curling like claws. “Where is the little bully?”

Micheal shakes his head.

“He’s over there.” Bailey chirps, pointing out a lanky kid with spiky hair and braces. He’s running across the field, his jersey shirt flapping against his back.

Sunny takes off in Ebenezer’s direction.

“Sunny!” I scramble behind her. Stop her from committing a crime, Darrel. You’re the one who’s supposed to be thinking rationally.

So why do I want to see the little twat get his just desserts?

Rational thoughts. Rational…

Ebenezer jumps into a fancy sedan before we can get to him. The car moves out of the parking lane, the indicator flickering. They’re driving away. We’re too late.

But Sunny doesn’t slow down. She speeds up.

Her arms pump at her sides. Her legs kick up dust behind her. She runs pell-mell until she skids in front of Ebenezer’s car and throws her arms out. The driver stomps on the brakes and the tires make a loud screeching sound before they come to a stop inches from Sunny.

My heart drops to my toes.

My woman is insane.

Scowling, Sunny trots to the driver’s side window and raps her knuckles against it.

“Are you crazy, lady?” A woman with long black hair and red lips pushes her head out. “I could have knocked you over.”

“Are you Ebenezer’s mother?” Sunny demands.

“Yes, so what?”

Sunny lowers herself to the window, crowding the woman’s space and forcing her to inch back in fear.

“W-what are you doing?”

I join Sunny at the window. Ebenezer is looking on from the backseat, watching in confusion and a little fear.

In that moment, I realize he’s just a kid too.

I want to pull Sunny back, stop her before she does something out of emotions rather than logic, but I trust her. I trust that, even if we go about things in a completely different way, she’s not going to do anything that compromises the values we both treasure.

So I step back. Not too far away that she can’t reach for me if she needs me, but making it clear that she can take the lead and I’ll have her back.

“Today, your son beat up my friend Micheal.” Sunny’s voice is crisp and cutting, but it’s low. She’s not shrieking or throwing hands. It’s taking an effort to remain calm. I can see the vein pulsing in her temple, but it doesn’t show in her voice. “I don’t know what’s going on at home that Ebenezer thinks this violent behavior is acceptable. What I do know is that Micheal is no one’s punching bag.” Her eyes slide to Ebenezer and he trembles. “Treating people like garbage might feel good right now, but one day, your son is going to wake up and realize that he hurt someone. He’ll feel empty inside because he has no way of making it up to them. I don’t want that for him.” She leans closer. “And I’m betting you don’t want that either.”

The woman swallows so hard I can hear it like she’s got a microphone to her face.

“So,” Sunny straightens, “let’s not make this happen again, or we’ll be getting the police involved.” She smiles, but there’s an edge behind it. “And we wouldn’t want little Ebenezer to go through that, would we?”

The woman shakes her head ‘no’.

“Great.” Sunny hits the car three times on the hood and both the mother and son jump. “You two have a great day!”

“Crazy…” Ebenezer’s mother hurls an expletive as she winds her window up and drives off.

I’m the one who wants to chase after her sedan and bang on the window now, but I can’t. Sunny is extending her hand to me. I grip her fingers and realize she’s not reaching for me out of affection but because she’s trembling.

“You did good,” I whisper, running my hand over her hair.

“I wanted to choke her.”

“I know.”

“He hurt Micheal.”

“I know that too.”

Tears mist in her eyes, but only a fool would think it’s because she’s sad. “If he hurts Micheal again, I won’t restrain myself.”

I kiss her temple and sigh. “I know.”

If Micheal gets hurt again, I won’t restrain myself either.