19. Danger
CHAPTER NINETEEN
danger
I hear the boots before I see them—snakeskin, echoing off the tile. I catch the stance at the urinal next to mine, too fucking close. But these fuckers are never subtle.
“Never seen one before?” I ask, not bothering to look up from the wall covered in stickers and phone numbers.
Trey shrugs. “Seen plenty. Got one of my own. Heard yours has a tattoo, though.”
I zip. “Your mama tell you that?”
He grins like he’s already made peace with his own funeral, then leans a shoulder against the tile.
“Funny thing,” he says. “We dropped off the hat one of y’all left on our ranch. Thought maybe you were ready to explain what the fuck you’re up to. Gettin’ kinda old now.”
I step into his space—not fast, not slow. But close enough that he has to tilt his head to keep eye contact.
“Someone’s been watching over you,” I say quietly. “If I’d found one of you last night, you’d be dead already.” I pause. “Still deciding if tonight’s the night.”
His grin tightens. “We both know you won’t pull shit here at the bar tonight.” He jerks his chin toward the door. “At your brother's engagement party. They got it all dressed up out there. And way too many witnesses.”
“Doesn’t mean I won’t catch you after,” I say. “Parking lot. Side road. Wherever you go next.”
He laughs under his breath. “Speaking of parking lots—heard your baby mama’s back in town.”
I don’t answer.
He continues. “Y’all messing around again?”
I wash my hands. “None of your fucking business, Kennedy.”
He studies me. “And would it be your business if I was fuckin’ her?” The glint in his eye is all talk, not real interest. “Doesn’t hurt to have a little upcoming movie star on the roster.”
“I don’t give a fuck what you do.”
His brows lift, curious. “Find that hard to believe.”
“Nah, have fun with that circus,” I tell him, almost gentle. “But just so you know, I taught her everything she knows.”
He drops his voice to a dirty rasp. “That right? And what about that pretty little thing you been seen with lately? Little redhead. You care if I take her home tonight instead, show her what a Kennedy is all about?”
Heat floods my chest so fast my jaw tightens like it’s been wired shut.
Don’t do it, Danger. Don’t kill him on Trouble’s night.
I turn for the door. It’s the smart play. The adult one, telling myself to let it go, to be the bigger man for once.
"I'll treat her real nice.” His smile widens. "At least the first time."
Then he hits the soap dispenser above the sink behind me. The sound is small, but it flips a switch. And it drives me insane—because he shouldn’t be able to just go on with his day, wash his hands like he didn’t just spit that foul shit about Winnie.
I stop with my hand on the doorframe.
So much for being the better man.
I turn around and swing. Fist meets nose. The crack echoes. He rocks back against the wall, blood running down from a nostril, eyes shining with that crazy edge.
“That’s what I thought,” Kennedy says, voice shredded, like he likes the taste of his own blood. “Oughta be careful now that I know what sets you off. Stay off my land. Next time I’ll use the redhead to make my point clear.”
I wipe my knuckles on my shirt. “Go fuck yourself.”
The bathroom door swings open as I step into the hallway. Fisher’s standing there holding a juice cup.
“Holy crap, what happened to that guy in there?”
“He slipped. Hit his face on the urinal,” I say. “Tip of the day. Be careful where you piss.”
Fisher snickers. “Yikes. Well, food’s ready. Nana says she and I gotta leave after dessert.” He sighs dramatically. “I wanted to stay long enough to see Uncle Ryder do his two-step.”
I pat him on the back. “You’ll get plenty more chances for that.”
He shrugs and takes off toward the long tables that have been decorated and set up for Sawyer and Trouble on the back patio of the bar. I fall in step beside him.
“One day,” he says casually, “when a girl takes my last name, I don’t want fancy dinners like this. I just want pizza and video games.”
I glance down at him. “That sounds like a solid plan.” Then I add, quieter, “Just remember—her taking your name doesn’t mean you get to keep her.”
He looks up at me, forehead wrinkling. “It doesn’t?”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “You gotta earn it. Every day. Be kind. Pay attention.”
He thinks about that for a second, then nods. “Whatever you say.”
I look past him as he sits, my gaze catching on Winnie, laughing with one of the locals. Every bone in my body feels drawn to her lately. Everytime I kiss her, I want more. Things feel more natural than they should. All that should be a good thing. It’s not.
Once Rylee leaves Weston, everything goes back to normal. Winnie and I included. Just two people in the same town who know how to pass each other without stopping.
My phone buzzes. It’s one of the ranch hands.
I’ve got men posted at the entrance and at both ends of the street. Not just because Rylee might pull something on Trouble’s night—but because Fisher doesn’t know she’s in town yet.
I know I can’t keep doing this.
I have to figure it out—how to tell my son his mother's back before he hears it from someone else. Before she decides to introduce herself on her own terms.
Ace
All clear
No Rylee in sight
Danger
Keep watch until we’re through dinner
Once PJ and Fisher head out, shadow them back to the ranch
Ace
Copy that boss
I take a seat at the excessively decorated dining table and slip the phone back into my pocket, forcing my shoulders loose.
Fisher’s laughing at something Charming says. Sauce is already smeared on his face. Six years old and happier than I ever knew how to be.
Someone clinks a glass. The noise ripples down the table.
“Danger,” Sawyer calls. “You’re up.”
I push back my chair and stand. Conversations go quiet. Every face turns my way.
I catch Winnie again. She's wearing that smile like she has no idea what it does to me. If I were a better man, she'd already be mine. For real mine, not fake mine.
I clear my throat and lift my glass. “To Trouble and Sawyer.” My voice comes out steady, even. “Two people stubborn enough to choose each other every day. That’s not luck. That’s work.”
A few chuckles. A few nods.
“If you want something that lasts,” I continue, “you don’t run when it gets hard. You don’t keep score. You show up. Even when you’re tired. Even when you’re scared. And you fight like hell for it.”
My grip tightens on the glass as I shove away thoughts I should keep buried. It takes all my effort not to step away from the table and go to her. To Winnie.
If I was the kind of man built for this—if I wasn’t made from a dark history and bad decisions, I’d take her hand right now. I’d pull her onto the dance floor. I’d make her laugh. I’d let the whole damn town see what it looks like when a man knows what he wants and isn’t afraid of it.
But I’m not that man.
I wish I was.
I lift my glass higher.
“To choosing each other,” I finish. “Every day.”
Applause breaks out. Chairs scrape. Glasses clink. Winnie smiles at me from across the yard.
And it damn near breaks me in half.