Chapter 5
CHAPTER
FIVE
Zoey
I hold the ice pack against Harrison’s swollen face, tsking him the entire time while he moans, trying to shove my hand away.
I was scared shitless when Riptide called me earlier to tell me there’d been a brawl at the clubhouse between the brothers, insinuating that I better get my ass there as quickly as I could and drive him home while he still had everyone sequestered and placed into time out corners like a bunch of damn five year olds—his words, not mine, though I have to say, they were pretty damn accurate.
He promised to chaperone my man and play referee until I could get there and remove him from the situation.
“Tell me one more time what happened?” I request.
“I don’t wanna,” he whines. “But I will tell you that this time, it wasn’t my fault.”
“Is it ever?” I snap out the question. “For fuck’s sake, Harrison. We’re parents who have an impressionable kid who idolizes you and mimics your actions. What does you fighting say to her? I need you to be a more responsible role model. I don’t want her using her fists to solve things.”
“When I’m attacked, I will defend myself,” he says, scowling at me through the eye that’s not swollen. “I don’t want Elodie sitting back and letting some little shit whale on her either, Zoey.”
I consider his words and decide I don’t want my daughter to be anyone’s punching bag either.
“I agree, but I still don’t understand why you and Icer were on the receiving end of your brothers’ ire.
” With his stubbornness, I know this conversation isn’t going to get us anywhere, especially with us both in a mood so I decide to broach this topic at a later date and time.
I have other things on my mind that have me on an emotional rollercoaster that I need to deal with first. “We’ll talk about it later, I still have to get our luggage together since we’re leaving in the morning for our Valentine’s vacation getaway.
We are still going, right?” He nods his head at me, but otherwise, stays silent.
Sighing, I plop the ice pack on his face and stand up, leaving him on the couch as I head into the bedroom to finish packing our overnight bags.
Thankfully, Elodie is already packed and over at Riptide and Van’s where she’ll be staying while we’re gone, so that’s one less person I have to worry about tonight.
Mumbling underneath my breath about men whose balls haven’t dropped yet, I march into our bathroom and begin tossing our hygienic supplies into a travel case.
I get lost in my mission and then grab my V-Day present for Harrison—there’s one thing I can say with certainty, and that is that it’ll be unlike any gift he’s ever received.
I swing the bag holding the infant cut I had commissioned that states he’s a future King on it and tuck it into our suitcase.
I know that it’s awfully presumptuous of me to give him something more suitable if I were confident and it’d been confirmed we were having a boy, but I have that motherly instinct that tells me I’m carrying his son so I’m going with my gut—after all, it was spot on with Elodie.
I knew from the moment of conception and my pregnancy had been verified, that she was a girl.
Some say I’m intuitive, I think I was so damn lonely as a kid that I bond to my child…
children quickly enough to know whether they’re a he or a she, it’s as simple as that.
Nothing less, and nothing more. At least, that’s what I’ve convinced myself of.
Shaking myself out of that reverie, I jump to it and get us packed and get our luggage to the front door so Indiana can easily access everything and get us loaded up into my SUV.
Even black and blue, Harrison can make me laugh like no other.
He’s blasting the radio with the windows down, even though it’s a whopping forty-two degrees outside, singing, “Shot through the heart, and you’re to blame, darlin’ you give love, a bad name.
” But it’s not the fact that he’s singing the lyrics that have me giggling like we’re teenagers again, it’s not the way he’s using the steering wheel as a drum, no, it’s his facial expressions while doing it that have me rolling with laughter.
He reaches over and turns down the volume until the radio is low enough I can hear him talk and carry on a conversation with him. “Am I forgiven yet, Zo-Zo?”
“You could be if you never call me that again,” I humorously state.
“Noted,” he says, winking at me. “Boys need to blow off steam sometimes, this is part of the life, baby girl. We get mad, we duke it out.”
“But Elodie–” I start, only to have him shush me by placing his finger over my mouth.
“Is going to be a badass princess, Zoey. She’ll be doused in glitter and gold, but baby, she’ll also know when the right time is to strike and when it’s more appropriate to use her words.
My hope is that with enough uncles, cousins, and us at her side, she’ll never have to lift a finger toward her enemy, but in the meantime, I also want her to know how to defend herself if none of us are around. ”
“I can see your point, but I still have issues with her being turned into a weapon of sorts, Harrison. The fact that my first grader knows how to tuck her thumb to throw a punch doesn’t sit well with me,” I digress.
“I love that you and Icer spend time with her instructing her on how to defend herself, I really do, but y’all also need to be teaching her right from wrong.
She can’t become a bully, or throw hands all willy-nilly.
She has to understand the difference between protecting herself and acting out of anger. ”
“Those are things we hone in on during our sessions with her, baby girl. I swear, we won’t turn her into a gangster or ruffian.
But if some little peckerhead comes at her and wants something from her she’s not willing to give, I want her to know how to shove his balls up into his scrotum,” he conveys.
With my past and what I endured, I can’t disregard what he’s saying or come up with a valid argument, because had I known how to protect myself, I may not have been violated in the manner I was.
However, that’d also mean I wouldn’t have Elodie, and that’s not a thought I wish to ponder because that girl saved my life in more ways than one.
“I’ve been thinking long and hard about this topic, Harrison. I want to propose something to you, but before you get all butt hurt, I want you to hear me out.”
“Okay. What are you thinking, beautiful?” he asks.
“What about putting her in karate or another sport like it? They teach discipline and when to use force and when not to. I still want you and Icer to work with her, but I think if she had a Sensei, or whatever they’re called, it’d give her an added person to have to answer to if she goes against her teachings and rules laid out before her. ”
“It’s something to ponder. Maybe I could take some classes with her. I can see it now, both of us with black belts ruling the circuit,” he says, daydreaming.
Well, shit. This idea of mine may have backfired on me.
Story of my goddamn life.