Chapter Forty-Seven
Booker
C oming into the sunroom two hours later, after having a snooze with Frey, who had remained on his back, Booker’s ass twinged from the bite. His bear had lost the plot to feel their fox mark them like that. It was such a dominant move, and his bear loved their fox for it.
Booker rubbed at his ass cheek, unsure how he felt about this new dynamic and, when he had five minutes alone, he was going to ask Derick about it. Because from what Frey had inferred before he’d come down to leave him to shower, he wasn’t the only one to get into trouble for lying.
He sighed, running a hand through his damp hair at how conflicted he continued to feel about the dressing down he’d gotten, in such a non-dressing down way. Frey had him by the balls for sure .
“What’s with you?” Silas asked, his gaze going to Frey, who had the seat next to Popi. Popi was pushing the swing crib where Emmy was sleeping. Booker shrugged, doing his best to not blush.
All the family were there and Booker did not want an audience when he was feeling a little out of sorts. Frey had shown him who was boss and by doing so, he’d made him come in a way Booker hadn’t done since he’d had wet dreams as a teenager. It was… fucked if he knew, when his groin tightened in anticipation of it happening again.
“Have you had something to eat?” Popi asked as he rose gracefully from the couch. The look he cast at Booker told him he was still in trouble for what he’d gone and done with Derick.
Can’t I just catch a break?
His stomach gurgled and, clearly not wanting to get into any more strife, he went with honesty. “No.”
“Follow me,” Popi said, and Booker swallowed the groan when his brothers all glanced at him. He didn’t miss their smug smirks or how Dad bit his bottom lip as if holding back a chuckle. Seeing he would not get any help there, Booker, like a man trying to find if he had the ability to walk on water, swung around and unfortunately caught Jupiter’s eye.
“Someone’s in trouble,” Jupiter muttered, loud enough for Booker to hear.
“Fuck off,” he mouthed back, and went after Popi.
He tried to think of several reasons for his actions that wouldn’t get him into any more hot water as he dragged his sneakered feet through the house. By the time he entered the kitchen, Popi had a large portion of homemade lasagna, steam rising from the plate as Popi placed it on the counter. “Sit.”
Seeing absolutely no way around it, Booker did as he was told and reached for the fork. He dug into the food for something to do to avoid looking at the man who filled a glass with white wine and sat opposite him. Booker could feel Popi’s stare, it held the weight of his disappointment. Booker didn’t need to see to know that. Popi had always used that look and the silence to make them all understand they’d pissed him off. It was a genuine talent. No shouting, no hitting, just that look that said they’d caused him to feel disappointed by their behavior.
The silence stretched so long, Booker had cleared his plate before he chanced a look at Popi. The years had been kind to him. Despite being in his sixties and his hair silvery-white, his face hardly had a wrinkle. His eyes were clear and piercing as they held Booker’s.
“I’m sorry.”
Popi took a sip of his wine. “For what?”
“For whatever Dad told you,” Booker hedged, searching Popi’s expression to see if he could suss what exactly he knew. He gave nothing away.
“Why don’t you explain what happened to me?” Another sip of wine and a smile that made Booker shift in his seat.
“I… we… went to speak to the asshole and tell him to stay away from my family.” That summed it up if he discounted standing on his father’s nuts and trying to rattle his teeth from his head. Minor details .
“Didn’t Frey and I express that we wished for you and Derick to leave that man for the lawyers to deal with?”
The quiet question caused sweat to gather under Booker’s armpits. He could feel his T-shirt sticking to his skin. “It was just—”
“That you both thought you could hoodwink me and Frey and do what we expressly asked you not to do?” One brow quirked up. Another sip of wine and Booker was sweating so hard he was going to need another shower.
Booker ran his hands through his hair, then scratched at his beard, trying to figure out the best way to answer. “I… yes.”
He sagged, his shoulders slumping as he rested his arms on the counter, reaching a hand out to Popi, giving him begging eyes. “Popi, I was worried for my family. I wanted to make sure that fucker didn’t think he could hassle my mate and daughter. They’ve all kept away after they cut ties after that night…”
Booker took a deep inhale and then released a shuddery breath at how the past was there, reminding him of things that no one could change. “To come back now when I’m truly happy and attack my family. What if he’d done what he’d tried to do to you, and I wasn’t there to stop it?” Booker shuddered. That fear had materialized during the hours he’d spent in the air, trying to get back to Frey. Then to find out his father had laid hands on Frey—hurt him? His nightmares were back to being a reality, and as much as he’d promised Frey to let the lawyers sort it, he could not settle without having his opportunity to tell that fucker to stay away .
“He’s a coward at heart. Greedy and manipulative, it’s why he targeted Frey and not you. We will deal with him, so he doesn’t harm any of you.” Popi took the hand reaching out for him and squeezed it.
It helped settle Booker like it had always done, that quiet support. His suspicions about paying off his father, yeah, he’d known all along. The greedy fucker had taken Dad and Popi’s money and without knowing, done Booker an eternal gratitude. His chest ached with the love he had for this man who’d chosen to be his family. “I love you, Popi.”
“My sweet boy,” Popi sniffed, placing his glass on the counter. Releasing Booker’s hand, he slid off his seat and rounded the counter.
Booker twisted, and Popi came to stand in front of him. Even seated, Popi had to tilt his head back to meet Booker’s gaze. His hands cupped his bearded cheeks and gave Booker the sweetest smile, one filled with the affection he displayed every day since Booker had become part of their family.
“I love you, too. You’re my big brave son and have been since the moment you saved my Silas, stepped in front of your father, and took those punches.” His fingers gently ran over Booker’s cheeks, wiping at the tears running down them. “But more than that, your heart is so big and generous. You love deeply and protect those who are vulnerable. That is who you are. Don’t let that A-hole make you think differently. Act differently.”
He tugged Booker’s head towards him and kissed his forehead. Their gazes held. “You wanted to protect your family, but doing it from a jail cell isn’t the answer. That man wanted to provoke you, for whatever stupid reasons he has, and he succeeded. Violence is never the answer. Your Dad and I disagree on this, but he now knows my thoughts on how he handled this without discussing it with me or Frey. I understand why you felt the need to protect, and your Dad is the same, which is why he went with you.”
Booker got Popi’s argument, he truly did, but… “Popi, he touched my mate with violence. Laid hands on him and hurt him. Same as he tried to do to you. He needed to know I wasn’t going to tolerate that.” For Booker and his animal side, it was as simple as that. “And you don’t need to worry, I didn’t hit him.”
Back was the one arched brow. “You didn’t?” Popi searched his expression, and Booker held his gaze. “You aren’t lying.”
Popi pouted, and Booker’s brows drew together in confusion.
“I was hoping for one good punch at least.”
Booker burst out laughing and hugged Popi against his chest. “Popi, you’re so… naughty.”
Popi giggled. “I know, but you are not to tell your dad.”
Booker kissed the top of his fragrant hair, continuing to chuckle. “I won’t, but I want brownie points for it.”
“That’s my boy.”