My lungs are tight, and my stomach rolls.
Danny’s eyebrows shoot up. He points to himself. “Put me down?”
Slade bows up, chest out, fist ready. “If I have to.”
“You ain’t leaving with my girl, dickwad. We’re havin’ a blaby.” He pulls back and bashes his forehead into Slade’s nose.
Slade draws back his fist and lays Danny out with one punch to the jaw.
I gasp. “Oh, gawd. You guys!”
I yank a tissue from the wad of unused ones in my pocket and shove it into Slade’s hand so he can stem the flow of blood draining down his face onto his shirt.
Dropping to my knees next to Danny, I push the hair out of his face. He’s out cold and reeks of tequila or whiskey or some kind of alcohol. His jaw blooms with the beginnings of a bruise.
My eyes tear as I bite my bottom lip to keep it from trembling.
But I can’t cry over Danny.
I won’t.
THIRTEEN
At least Mo was nice enough to call my mom instead of leaving me to get eaten by mosquitoes or fire ants while I slept off my idiocy. I steady myself on the wall with one hand, rubbing my jaw with the other as I head to the top of the stairs.
Mom sits at the kitchen table, her coffee mug in front of her. A frown mars her face. She looks up as I open the freezer for a bag of peas.
She opens her mouth. Before she can speak, I hold up a hand. “I know. I know. I’m sorry.”
Mom rubs the crease between her brows. “Danny, what’s going on with you and Mo? Your Dad knows something, but he won’t tell me. Now she’s moved out with a flimsy excuse as to why, and now you’re drinking and passing out in the yard.”
I’ve been drinking for a long time, but I’m not telling her that. “She and I have been—seeing each other. She thinks I did—this thing I didn’t do, and she’s pissed.”
Mom places her hand over mine. “What does she think you did?”
This is a truckload of bullshit. I let out a deep breath. “Just something. Look, I’m sorry, but I don’t want to talk about it with you. I need to discuss it with Dad.”
She straightens and nods. “Yes, that would be good. You two talk. Your dad’s a smart guy; he’ll know how to help.”
Yeah. Help is probably the last thing he’ll do.
I push away from the table. When I get down the hall, I skip the knock and walk into Dad’s office.
He frowns and looks back at the papers on his desk. “I don’t have time for your theatrics this morning.”
Flopping into the chair in front of his desk, I snort. “You have to fix this shit. Mo found that fucking camera you put in her bathroom and she thinks I did it.”
Dad leans back, crossing his hands over his stomach. “Well, that’s too bad, Son.”
Smug motherfucker.
I stand and slam a fist onto his desk, rattling everything. “No. You will make this better. And you’ll do it now. I pulled those cameras you had at the shelter. Plus, your being a perverted old man shouldn’t cost me the girl I love.”
The door pushes open and Mom stares in with wide eyes. “What’s this?”
Dad groans. Mom cocks an eyebrow. And my stomach takes a nosedive for the floor.
Well, if she’s been standing out there very long, she already knows anyway. Besides, come Wednesday, it’s all gonna blow up as soon as I tell Cindy.
I shoot a look at him and cross my arms. “Go ahead, Dad. Walk the walk. The truth shall set you free.”
Mom steps into the room. “Tell me.”
He comes around the desk, leading her to the seat I just vacated. “Charlotte, it’s not as bad as it might seem.”
I shake my head. “The hell it isn’t.”
Mom looks to me, and then to him. “What?”
Dad hangs on to one of her hands, throwing me a look.
I lift my chin. “Go ahead.”
He clears his throat. I hide my shaking hands behind my back. Please, God, don’t let this destroy my mother.
She yanks her hand from his.
Her grip on the chair’s arm whitens her knuckles. “What have you done, David?”
Dad grits his teeth and hardens his eyes when he glares at me, as though this is my fault.
Fine. I’ll tell her. “He put cameras all over the guest house and has been recording Mo ever since she moved in. Not only that, but he also installed them in the ministry’s women’s shelter, in the bathrooms and sleeping quarters. He’s a fucking pervert.”
Mom’s eyes grow large as her gaze darts from me to him and back, her hand going to her chest. “What? No.”
Dad massages his forehead with his fingertips. “It’s true. But I can explain. I was just watching over Mona Lisa. And the women at the shelter, they’re all sinners and need shepherding…”