“Little late for that, isn’t it?” Declan voiced. “I never did say congratulations, did I?”
“Yeah, congratulations,” Cas offered lamely.
“What pisses you off the most?” Muddy asked Grampy. “That she made a decision without involving you? That I gave her the money? Or that she’s with Brooks?”
Grampy dropped his arm from around my shoulder and began rolling up the sleeve of his white button-down shirt.
“Is he getting ready to fight?” Declan asked me.
“I thought you said he was a tweed-wearing professor,” Cas said to Salem. “I see no tweed.”
Grampy’s ink became visible on his forearm as he continued to roll up his sleeve.
“Badass,” Cas said with a whistle. “Oh shit, are those UDT tats?”
Grampy nodded. “Vietnam.”
“Damn,” Declan said. “Thank you for your service.”
Grampy inclined his head, but his focus was on Muddy.
Not me. Not Brooks. Muddy.
And Muddy’s gaze was riveted to my grandfather’s forearm.
“Dad, you haven’t said anything,” Hadley addressed her father.
“I’m just watching it all unfold,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “Feels good not to be the irrational hothead this time.
Grampy’s gaze whipped to Mr. Powell. “Did you just call me a hothead?”
“You flew all the way from England to give a verbal ass-whooping,” Mr. Powell stated. “I’d say that’s the definition of a hothead. Take it from a father of two daughters who didthisto me.” He gestured to his gray hair. “No judgment on my end. Just an observation.”
“Still waiting on an answer,” Muddy said. “What and who are you most pissed at?”
“Poet, of course.” Grampy looked at me. “I’m ashamed of you.”
My breath caught.
Brooks moved to take a step toward me in protection, but Grampy held up his hand to stop him.
“I’m ashamed that you thought you had to go to anyone else for help. Ashamed that you didn’t trust me enough to tell me about what you’d decided. Ashamed that you took money from a stranger instead of coming to me.”
“She’s not a stranger,” I said, my voice reed thin. “She’s Muddy.”
“I don’t know what that means,” Grampy said.
“I gave her the money, just like I’d have given Hadley and Salem the money,” Muddy stated. “Because Poet is family.”
The two of them stared at each other. Grampy sighed. “I need a drink.”
“Den,” Muddy said. “I’ve got a twenty-five-year-old scotch. The brandy’s good too.”
Grampy glanced at Brooks and then looked at me. “I think you and I better talk before anything else happens.”
“That’s probably a good idea,” I said.
Grampy pointed at Brooks. “Don’t go far. You’re next.”
