“Don’t be a little bitch,” he snaps. “I just want to chat.”
“We don’t chat. Just text me what you need.” I start to shut the door, but he catches it with his hand before I can force it closed.
“Don’t you dare fuckin’ shut me out,” he growls through the small gap in the door. “You owe me, and I hear you’ve got a fancy new man, a rich professional bull rider. About time you opening your legs did something for this family. I need more cash, a lot more—and you’re going to get it for me.”
His rancid breath almost gags me as he pushes the door open farther, getting in my face. My heart is pounding, and my hands shake. I reluctantly take a quick step back to angle myself behind the door, but I run into the wall—no, not the wall—awall, of solid muscle.
Trey.
His hands come up to grip my biceps, gently moving me to the side as he positions himself between my father—who has now opened the door completely—and me.
“She asked you to leave. You need to listen.” His voice is stern, but he doesn’t yell.
“You must be the bull rider she’s been riding.” Daryl is the only one who laughs at his perverse joke. “I would’ve thought a man like you could do better.”
“That’s enough!” Trey barks. “You will not speak to her or about her that way. Get the fuck off her property before I remove you myself.”
Oh, shit.
I’ve never heard Trey angry before. He went from stern to balled fists, ready to throw him out of my doorway in the blinkof an eye. But my father isn’t someone to make an enemy of. He has far too many violent friends.
“We are not doing this right now. Go, Daryl.” I choose my words carefully, purposely leaving it open to discussion. I know he won’t let this go, but I need to get him away from Trey. That’s all I need right now.
“This conversation isn’t over. I’ll be in touch, and you make damn sure you respond.” He points a finger at me before turning to leave.
Trey closes and locks the door. He takes several deep breaths before facing me. He doesn’t say a word and watches me. When he sees my hands still shaking, he ushers me to the couch, instructing, “Sit.” He goes to the kitchen and locks the back door with aclickbefore returning with two bottles of water. He opens mine and hands it to me.
I watch Trey, trying to read him, but failing.
After I take a few sips, he asks, “Want to explain that?”
“How long were you standing there?”
“Long enough.”
I blow out a breath, realizing I have to tell himsomething. “That was my father. We have a . . . difficult relationship. He doesn’t normally show up here. I’m sorry you—”
“You don’t need to apologize to me, Jessie,” he cuts me off. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Yes, I do. The things he said about you—”
“I don’t give a shit what he says about me. But if I ever hear him talk about you like that again, he’ll have his mouth wired shut when I’m done with him.”
“No,” I snap and stand. “You can’t. You don’t understand, Trey. Leave it alone—don’t talk to him again. It’s better if you don’t confront him. I don’t need you to defend me.”
He stands, visibly irritated at my answer. “Fuck that. I won’t let him scare you and talk to you like that. I won’t letanyonetalk to you like that.”
“You don’t get a say!” I throw my arms up. “This isn’t your problem and I don’t want your help! Stop trying to fucking help me all the time. I’m not asking for it.” My chest is heaving. He’s pushing too far, too close to my past, too close to secrets I keep buried for a reason.
His forehead creases, his face morphing from anger to concern. No, not concern.Pity.
My eyes start to burn.
Fuck.I have to get out of here. I rush into the kitchen and grab my bag and keys off the counter.
“Jessie, wait,” Trey calls as I unlock the back door, disappearing through it.
I drove around for hours. It’s midnight when I creep back into the house, grateful Trey isn’t waiting in the main living space. I quietly brush my teeth and wash my face, telling myself the soapy water is washing this horrible day away. Telling myself I’m okay.
