Chapter 2 #3
“He already told us he’s waiting,” Gabby assured me. “Daddy keeps calling me. He’s mad that we left early. He’ll probably call you next.”
My heart panged at the nervousness in her tone. Gabby hated any bad feeling, and I knew she’d be upset that her dad was angry with her.
“What happened, baby?” I asked.
She sucked in a fortifying breath, and my heart stilled when I heard the tremor in it. “Rachel was mad that I forgot to unload the dishwasher. Daddy was at work, so Deej said we had to pack our stuff and go.”
“You should’ve done your chores, honey,” I told her gently.
“I know,” she admitted. “I just got caught up in my book. I apologized and told her I’d do it, but she wouldn’t stop yelling at me.”
My back stiffened. “She yelled at you?”
Gabby’s awkward silence told me everything I needed to know.
“We’re just a few minutes away, honey,” I assured her. “Look out for us. I’m gonna ring off now and call your dad. Don’t worry, I’ll smooth things over.”
“Thanks, Momma,” she whispered.
“See you soon, honey,” I said, ending the call.
I saw Donovan take in my jerky movements as my finger stabbed at my cell. “Trouble?”
“With a capital T,” I muttered, scrolling through my contacts. I found my ex-husband's name, clicked on it, and put the phone on speaker as it started to ring.
The call connected, and Evan barked, “Our kids need to learn some manners.”
I took a breath, trying to calm my shit before I cussed his ass out. “Or maybe your girlfriend does.”
He gave a humorless snort. “Rachel’s the adult. Gabrielle has to learn that if she doesn’t do her chores, there’ll be consequences.”
“Oh my God!” I exclaimed. “She got carried away with her book and forgot to unload the dishwasher. Did your current flavor of the month really have to raise her fucking voice at our daughter? Why would she yell at Gabby over something so damned trivial? Jesus, Evan, DJ wouldn’t pack their shit and leave over nothing. ”
I could hear the frustration and the dismissiveness in his heavy sigh. “Rachel’s not used to dealing with kids.”
“Then don’t leave them with her. You have them two weekends a month. Why the hell were you at work when you should be spending time with them?”
“I got called in on an emergency,” he said defensively.
“And that’s more important than the kids? I know sometimes you can’t control everything, but next time there’s an emergency, maybe you should take them to your parents’ house.”
“Don’t fucking tell me what to do,” Evan spat. “They’re my kids too, and if Gabby’s gonna throw attitude at my woman, she’s gotta expect consequences.”
My brow furrowed.
Gabby would never throw attitude at anyone, and I was shocked Evan would believe it of her.
She lived in a fucking dream world ninety-nine percent of the time, so it could sometimes seem like she wasn’t listening, probably because her mind was still stuck in the story she’d been reading, but she wasn’t rude, ever.
She didn’t have it in her. DJ? Yes, all day long. Gabby? Never.
I thrust a hand through my hair. “Are you for fucking real—?”
“Oh, fuck you, Rosie,” Evan bit out. “You’re just a bitter bitch—”
“Yo. Bud!” Donny barked. “Keep it civil or else you’ll deal with me!”
Silence fell briefly before Evan growled, “And who the fuck are you?”
“I’m Rosie’s man,” he announced. “And I’d be obliged if you kept it respectful.”
My eyes jerked toward Donovan.
A strangled sound came over the line. “And I’d be obliged if you kept out of mine and my wife’s business.”
“Ex-wife,” Donovan corrected.
Evan let out a grunt. “Fuck you.”
“Right. We’re done here.” Donovan plucked the cell from my hand and clicked the end call button before handing it back to me. “If he calls again, decline it.”
I stared at him open-mouthed.
“You okay?” he asked.
I nodded, a smile stretching across my face. “That was fucking awesome.”
He shot me a grin. “Thank fuck. I thought you might be mad at me for getting involved.”
“No way! I was about to cuss his ass out anyway. When you announced you were my man, I thought he’d have a damned seizure.”
Donovan glanced at me, his eyes glittering. “I don’t like the way he spoke about your girl. A man shouldn’t talk about his daughter like that.”
My lips pursed. “God knows what’s gotten into him.
He’s usually amazing with Gabby. I agree the kids have to do chores, but there’s no ill intent in Gabs.
DJ would defy Rachel just to piss her off, but Gabby hates upsetting anyone.
I don’t shout at my kids; we don’t live that way.
I understand they need discipline, but I only have to sit them down and explain where I’m coming from, and they listen. ”
“We’ll sort Gabby out,” he assured me.
“I just hate this for her. She’s so sensitive.”
His hand squeezed mine. “I think we’re here.” He clicked his blinker on and turned into a side road where an old gas station loomed ahead. DJ’s old, blue Chevy truck was all hooked up and ready to go while my son stood next to it, gabbing with Lucie, one of the Speed Demons’ prospects.
The door to the tow truck flew open, and Gabby jumped down, her long, black hair bouncing as she landed. My daughter was in a bit of an Alt phase, and she wore it well. Gabby didn’t have a clue how cool and edgy she looked in her black, netted crop top, black tutu-like skirt, and Doc Martens.
She came flying toward the car, all long limbs and flowy hair bouncing behind her. I opened the door and jumped down just in time to hear her exclaim, “Momma!”
I held my arms out, waiting for her to run into them. As soon as her body hit mine, I smoothed her hair and murmured, “Baby. Are you okay?”
She pulled back slightly and looked at me with sad, soulful eyes. “Yeah.”
I tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “We’ll talk it out when we get home.”
Gabby gave me a tentative smile. “Okay.” Her gaze swept over my face and down my dress.
“You look beautiful. How was the wedding? Do you have a picture of Mizz Maeve’s dress?
” She was interrupted by the sound of Donovan’s truck door thudding shut, and her eyes jerked toward him as he sauntered over to us.
I almost heard her teenage sigh as she took in his unbuttoned shirt with the sleeves rolled up his tattooed arms, and sexy smirk.
“Oh my God,” she breathed.
“I know, right?” I murmured.
Her eyes jerked back to me and rounded while we shared a fleeting moment of appreciation for the hot guy.
“Hey, Gabby!” Donovan greeted her. “You grew up pretty!”
“Oh my God,” my daughter breathed again.
I bit back a laugh.
“H-Hey, Mr. O’Shea,” she stuttered. “Thanks for coming to help us.”
“Yeah,” a deep voice cut in. “Thanks for bringin’ Mom to pick us up, Sir.”
I turned my head to see my boy approaching and smiled.
DJ was already six feet tall with broad shoulders and lean hips.
My son had swagger along with enough confidence to fill a sports stadium.
He may have been the class alpha-in-training bad boy, but his grades were frankly awful.
He had no interest in academics because it was mechanics all the way for him, though luckily, his penchant for sports meant he had to keep his grades up to a certain level if he wanted to play on the football and baseball teams.
He already loved cars and bikes and had helped restore his truck when he visited the club last year for summer vacation, along with Atlas, and with the help of Abe, Mason, and Bowie.
Donovan gave him a chin lift. “Didn’t like the idea of you guys out here alone. You okay?”
DJ nodded and looked at me. “Did you speak to Dad?”
I sent him a tight-lipped smile. “Yeah. It didn’t go well, but you know your dad. He’ll come around once he’s slept on it.”
DJ folded his arms across his chest. “Me and Gabby have talked. We’re not gonna visit him anymore. If he wants to see us, he’ll have to come here.”
My heart gave a twinge. “Maybe you guys should sleep on it. You know we don’t make important decisions on a whim. I get you’re upset, and I understand exactly how frustrated you must feel, but you love your dad, and he loves you.”
DJ looked down at his boots and sighed.
“Rachel’s mean, Mom,” Gabby said quietly.
“I’m sorry, honey,” I murmured, taking her hand in mine. “I told your dad she shouldn’t have shouted at you.”
“It’s not the first time,” DJ announced.
Gabby’s head snapped around to him. “Shut up, Deej!”
His eyes narrowed on her. “You need to tell Mom.”
My stare sliced to Gabby. “What’s going on?”
“Rachel’s a bitch,” DJ spat. “She talks crap to Gabby all the time and calls her lazy and spoiled. Ask us why we left.”
“Deej. Stop,” Gabby cried.
“She screamed at you and called you a lazy fat bitch,” he roared.
I froze. “She called you what?” My tone was icy cold.
Gabby’s tear-filled eyes lifted to meet mine. “She calls me names and then tells Daddy I was rude to her, but I’m not, I swear I’m not.”
A lump as big as Texas formed in my windpipe, and suddenly, I couldn’t breathe.
My daughter was beautiful and nowhere near lazy. I’d raised her to be kind and thoughtful, not vain and vacuous, and the thought of that bitch calling Gabby names, and maybe even giving her a complex, made me feel sick.
“Get in the truck, babies,” I whispered.
DJ picked up the bags he’d carried over and followed Gabby to the back of the cab.
I waited for them to get in the truck, then turned to Donovan, leaned forward, and whisper-shouted, “Can you believe that fucking witch?”
Donovan dipped his chin, his eyes glittering with anger. “No, I damned well can’t. The question is, what are we gonna do about it?”
“First thing I’m gonna do is call my prick of an ex-husband,” I retorted, keeping my voice down so the kids didn’t hear me. “What happens after that depends on what he does.”
He turned, heading back to the truck, then jumped up to the passenger side. Seconds later, he stalked toward me, holding out my phone. “Do it now.”
“The kids might hear,” I hissed, taking the cell from him.