Something in me snaps.
Before I even realize I’m moving, I’m crossing the distance between us. I grab a fistful of his jacket and slam him back against the cinderblock wall. Tools rattle on the pegboard. The air whooshes out of his lungs with a surprised grunt.
“Pops!” Honey’s voice is sharp behind me.
I barely hear her. My forearm is pressed hard across Smoke’s chest, the rough brick biting into his back. His eyes go wide, then narrow as his hands come up, instinctive, to push me off. I lean in harder, pinning him.
“You don’t get to do this,” I growl, my face inches from his. I can smell stale cigarettes and cheap cologne, that sour edge of adrenaline coming off him. “You don’t get to walk in here, look at my little girl, and talk about how she looks like some piece of ass you miss. She’s no fuckin’ barfly.”
“I didn’t—” He wheezes, trying to suck in air. “Fuck, Stud?—”
“You heard me,” I snarl. “You don’t get to keep playing this little back-and-forth game with her. With those kids. You don’t get to stroll in and out like this is some drive-through family you can hit up when you’re bored.”
His eyes flash. “She’s not a kid. She can make her own damn choices.”
“I know exactly how old she is,” I hiss. “I was there when she was born, remember? I held her first. I was there for everything I could be. And when the demands of the military life took me away physically, I was still with her mentally. I provided for everything she needed, her momma needed, and her brother needed. I was there when she took her first steps, when she got her first busted lip, when she graduated high school. I was there when she pulled herself together after the first time and last time you broke her damn heart. I’ll keep being there every time you’re fucking gone.”
My arm muscles strain. I’m aware, distantly, that my back is going to hate me for this later, that my shoulder is already making its displeasure known, but I don’t give a shit.
“If you want to self-destruct, you go right ahead,” I say. “You want to piss your life away on dope or cards or whatever stupid bullshit calls your name this week, that’s your prerogative. But you don’t get to drag my daughter down with you. You don’t get to yank my grandkids around because you’re chasing a high.”
His nostrils flare. “I’ve been clean.”
“Good for you,” I bite out. “You want a medal, or?—”
“Dad, let him go.” Honey’s hand lands on my arm. Her fingers are shaking. “Please.”
I breathe hard, trying to get a grip. Smoke stares back at me, defiant and scared all at once.
“You’re only breathing,” I say, voice dropping low, lethal, “because you’re Bray and Key’s father. Don’t you ever forget that. If it weren’t for those kids, you’d have been a stain on this concrete a long time ago.”
The words come out colder than I expected. They hang in the air like frost.
For a second, none of us move.
Honey’s grip tightens. “Pops.”
In my peripheral vision, I see her pale face, the fear in her eyes—not of Smoke, but of me. Of what I might do.
That cuts deeper than anything.
I let out a long breath through my nose, unclenching my fingers from his jacket. I step back, my arm dropping to my side. Smoke coughs, dragging air into his lungs, one hand rubbing at his chest where my forearm just was.
“You ever make my granddaughter sit on that porch and wait for you,” I say quietly, “and I swear to God, the club won’t have to lift a finger. There will be no divide between you and I. Know this, I’ll handle it myself. And only one of us will be on this side of the dirt when I’m done.”
His eyes flicker at the mention of the club. He knows what that means. He’s seen what I’ve done when my brothers were threatened. He knows his place and mine. He’s seen the aftermath.
For all his bullshit bravado, he’s not stupid.
“I get it,” he mutters, eyes down. “Message received.”
Honey steps between us like a small, furious shield. “Both of you, stop,” she screams, voice shaking. “This isn’t helping anyone.”
Smoke’s gaze slides to her. “I just came to talk, babe. You look… damn.” His lips curl into a smile that might’ve charmed me once when I was younger and dumber. “I miss how it was.”
My hands curl into fists again, but Honey shoots me a look that says don’t even think about it.
She takes a breath and turns to Smoke. “Go next door,” she commands, nodding toward the side door that leads to the gravel lot and the little house beside the shop. “You can see your kids. I’ll be there in a minute we can talk, but this I miss you shit, it is done. You wanna see the kids, I won’t stop you, but you don’t get to keep coming in and out of my life.”
