Brock ground out.

To that, Cob sucked back a huge swallow of beer as he stood then he bent and slammed his bottle on the table and looked down at his son.

"No, what I got is not enough time to hope you do not f.u.c.k up like your old man and instead do right by your family."

The air turned harsh, scratching at my skin and Cob's eyes came to me.

"Nice dinner, Tess, beautiful cake. And honored you talked to me, sweetheart, swear that to my soul." At these words Brock's solid body grew rock-hard and Cob looked to him. "I'm okay with you bein' p.i.s.sed at me because I deserve it but, Slim, once you stop bein' p.i.s.sed you'll see I'm not wrong. You don't have to tell me, you just gotta get your s.h.i.t sorted." Then he jerked up his chin, started to the door and mumbled, "I'll see myself out."

Then he saw himself out.

I sat immobile and silent, still curled around an infuriated Brock and I stayed this way because I didn't want to do anything to tip the edge on that fury.

I should have moved away.

"Honored you talked to him about what?"

I pulled away, removing my arm, tipped my head back and looked at him. "Sorry?"

"Honored you talked to him about what?"

"We, uh..." I started cautiously, too cautiously.

"Spit it out, Tess. What did you and Father of the Year talk about?"

Oh man.

Seriously, the Lucas family needed to work through these issues and soon.

"He was worried that I was like Olivia and showing you what you wanted to see but was something else underneath," I said softly and Brock fell back against the couch.

He lifted both hands and rubbed his face but under them he bit out, "Jesus Christ."

"I wasn't offended," I told him, his hands dropped and his eyes cut to me.

"Well, babe, that's good but I am."

"Brock "

"That it?"

"Uh..."

"Tess," he growled.

"He knows what happened to me," I whispered.

Brock scowled at me in a very scary way then he snarled, "f.u.c.king, f.u.c.king, f.u.c.king, " he stood, swiping his father's beer bottle off the table and sidearm throwing it across the room so it exploded against the wall, beer splattering everywhere and he finished, "h.e.l.l! "

At these actions, I crawled back into the corner of the sofa and curled my legs tight against my chest, wrapping my arms around them. I watched him standing there, shaking his head and tearing his fingers through his hair all the way to the back of his neck where he left them curved around still shaking his head.

Then he dropped his hand and turned to me. "Which one?" he demanded to know.

"Which one what?" I asked quietly.

"Which sister? Jill or Laura?"

"Brock, I don't really mind," I told him cautiously.

"Bulls.h.i.t," he fired back and I had to admit he was right. It was. "That man has no business knowin' that happened to you."

"Your family knows," I pointed out.

"Precisely," he clipped, "and that man isn't family."

"Brock," I whispered, "he's your Dad."

"He is?" he asked sarcastically and I decided that was a good time to quit talking.

Even furious, Brock didn't miss much; he saw me close down, decided to aim at a new target and thus yanked his phone out of back pocket, opened it up, hit some b.u.t.tons and put it to his ear.

Then he started pacing.

Then he said, "Yeah, Jill it's me and, head's up, I'm f.u.c.kin' p.i.s.sed."

Oh man.

He guessed.

He kept going. "Why? I'll tell you why. Because Tess didn't tell her f.u.c.kin' best friend she'd been raped, not for six f.u.c.kin' years. Martha found out a month ago. Her own G.o.dd.a.m.ned mother and sister don't know but you know who does? Dad. "

He paused maybe to listen but not for long before he continued.

"Do not pretend you know by a.s.sociation what that s.h.i.t feels like. Laura knows. That's why Laura didn't f.u.c.kin' share. You had no f.u.c.kin' business spewing that s.h.i.t to Dad. I left the house to take my boys home, left her with Dad and he f.u.c.kin' talked to her about it. She's alone here with a man she barely f.u.c.kin' knows and, bein' Dad, he thinks it's his place to have a conversation with my f.u.c.kin' woman about her bein' violated. "

Another pause that didn't last long.

Then, "Is she okay? What do you f.u.c.kin' think? She's curled in a ball in the corner of the G.o.dd.a.m.ned sofa Mom bought because I was so f.u.c.kin' p.i.s.sed my sister is f.u.c.kin' screwy, the instant I learned, I threw a G.o.dd.a.m.ned beer bottle across the room. And the reason I'm so f.u.c.kin' p.i.s.sed, Jill, is because she is supposed to feel safe with me. And my own G.o.dd.a.m.ned sister orchestrated a f.u.c.kin' scenario where, my back's turned for a half a G.o.dd.a.m.ned hour, she was sittin' on my own f.u.c.kin' couch and she was not. "

Okay, weirdly, what Brock just said made me feel less freaked out at his wild, angry, unrestrained behavior.

There was another short pause.

Then, "Jill, you had a different Dad than me. You and Laura, you had a different Dad than Levi and me. And now, for years, I've been takin' your back with this s.h.i.t, even before he got sick. But you gotta get your head outta your a.s.s, woman. No man, even Dad, deserves to die alone thinking his son has abandoned him. But that's as far as it goes and you need to get that and you need to show me while I have your back, you have mine and I'll make this official right f.u.c.kin' now. You have my back, you have Tess's and you can read what you want into that and my guess is, what you read will be right. Are we clear?"

Oh my G.o.d.

Did he mean what I thought he meant?

"Jesus," Brock clipped. "Uh... yeah. Wake up, Jill, she's met my f.u.c.kin' boys. In seven years has one woman I've been with met my boys, or, for that matter, you? "

Oh G.o.d.

He meant what I thought he meant.

I was feeling warm and gushy again.

"No," he declared firmly. "Tess will tell you it's okay because Tess is sweet and she won't want you to feel bad so, no. You aren't talkin' about this with her. You're listenin' to me tell you that s.h.i.t you did wasn't right. And you know," his voice dropped, "you know, Jill, from watchin' Austin, I gotta have this covered for a lifetime. That ghost shadows her, just like Laura, and I gotta have this and I gotta know my family has it too. So this is the last we'll speak of it but before we're done, I gotta know. Do you have this?"

A lifetime?

"Right," he said quietly. Then, "I'm sorry too. It's done. We're movin' on. Tell your daughters their uncle hasn't dropped off the face of the earth. They both got cars; they can drive them to my place. Tess will have a cupcake waitin' for them." Pause then, "Right."

Another pause then, quietly, "Jill, we're cool, aren't we always cool?"

A moment pa.s.sed before I watched him tip his head back to look at the ceiling.

Then I knew why he did this when he dropped his head to look at his boots and said gently, "Babe, quit cryin'."

Oh man.

I pressed my lips together.

Then Brock said, "You f.u.c.ked up, I called you on it, you listened, it's done and we're cool, darlin', quit f.u.c.kin' cryin'."

I was thinking for the first time in my life that I was glad I didn't have a brother at the same time contradictorily sadder than normal that I didn't.

And I was also thinking it was high time I Skyped my sister.

Then Brock said, "Right. Me too." Pause then, "f.u.c.k, right. I'll tell her." Another pause then, "Me too, darlin'. Later."

Then he snapped his phone shut and looked at me.

Then he announced, "Seein' as I now have a woman I have a.s.signments for Thanksgiving dinner, something, as a guy, I avoided for seven years and something, because my mother and sisters hated my wife, they never gave her the honor. But apparently you're in charge of dessert and when I say that I mean enough dessert that'll feed sixteen."

My, "Okay," came out sounding strangled because I was trying really, really hard not to laugh.

Brock wasn't laughing. He was dropping the phone on the coffee table. It clattered but he ignored it because while doing it, his eyes didn't leave me.

I would know why when he told me, "I can get p.i.s.sed and when I do, I've learned to let fly. I bury s.h.i.t, it is not good. So I let fly. But you, Tess, no matter how close you are to me when I flare or what p.i.s.ses me off, you are never in any danger. I may lose it but I will never lose it in a way that I'll hurt you. That's a promise. No man who is a decent man would ever put his hands on a woman or child in anger. And I'm not your average kind of man but I know, even so, I'm a decent man."

"I know," I whispered.

"If you do, why are you shoved in a corner?" he asked.

"Because you freaked me out," I answered.

He studied me. Then he sighed.

Then, softly, he said, "In future, sweetness, I'll do my best to check that."

I stared at him.

In seven years has one woman I've been with met my boys, or, for that matter, you?

I gotta have this covered for a lifetime.

In future, sweetness, I'll do my best to check that.

He was going to try to change... for me.

He introduced his sons... to me.

He took me on knowing, we went the distance, he'd be helping me battle ghosts for a lifetime.

On these thoughts, I found my mouth whispering, "You like me."

His head jerked and he asked, "What?"

I didn't repeat myself. Instead I said, "I don't want you to change who you are for me."

"Tess " he started but I shook my head, sat straighter and interrupted him.

"I can layer up so I don't get cold in your truck and I can deal when you get so p.i.s.sed you throw a beer bottle. I don't want you to change for me."

His head dropped and he looked at his boots but not before I saw his eyes close slowly.

"You know," I told the top of his head, it came up and he looked at me, "you walked into my kitchen a month ago and I didn't want to have one thing to do with you. But when you told me you threw a chair in reaction to learning what happened to me, I knew somewhere I've never known with another man that you would never let anything harm me. And wherever that somewhere is, it's deep and it's real and after nearly a decade of not feeling safe, not for a day, in that moment in my kitchen I finally did. So now," I gestured to the couch, "here I am. So if you throw a beer bottle or two or shout the house down, I'll deal."

His eyes held mine for long moments then his long legs brought him to me in less than a second. Then I was plucked out of the sofa but right back in it and stretched on top of a Brock "Slim" Lucas who was kissing me harder than he ever kissed me, sweeter than he ever kissed me but unfortunately not longer.

When he released my lips, I lifted my head, fought for breath and watched his warm, quicksilver eyes roam my face.

Then I asked breathily, "So, is this Thanksgiving gig traditional as in pumpkin, apple and pecan pie or can I get creative?"

His eyes stopped roaming and locked on mine. Then he grinned.

Then he said, "Do whatever the f.u.c.k you wanna do, they'll eat anything."

"Both then," I muttered musingly and I felt Brock's body start rocking with laughter under mine.

Then I felt Brock's body rocking with laughter over mine because he rolled me to my back while rolling on top of me.

Then my gla.s.ses were no longer on my nose but on the coffee table and I felt Brock's laughter in my mouth because he was kissing me.

Then I felt a lot of other things given to me from Brock but none of them had one thing to do with laughter.