twelve
The fearon Cordy’s face stopped Chance dead in the doorway. He wanted to tell her it was okay, that she shouldn’t be afraid, while also marching her out of this house as fast as he could.
She was sitting at the table with Holden, the both of them drinking coffee. It looked perfectly innocuous.
It made Chance want to throw up.
“What happened?” She put a hand to her throat. “Are you hurt?”
Funny thing was, hewashurting. Not from the run to the house, but from seeing her next to his father. Chance never wanted Holden’s shittiness to touch her. Chance was supposed to keep her safe, damn it.
Why hadn’t he thought to tell her to keep away from the old house?
“I’m fine.” Chance tried to catch his breath to look less wild. His hands itched to grab Cordy’s hand and pull her away.
What the hell was he going to say to her?Get home? What do you think you’re doing?
He had no right to say any of that to her, but his mouth was about to run off with him.
Iggy trotted in, snaking around to plaster himself next to Cordy’s leg. The hair on his back stood straight up, and his lip pulled back. He was ready to guard his mama.
That made Pard crawl from under the table and stand next to Holden. He wasn’t as keyed up as Iggy, but he knew something was going down.
Seeing two of the most ridiculous dogs Chance had ever met facing him down cooled some of his wild temper. If he was scaring the dogs, he needed to pull back.
When Cordy’s hand sought out Iggy’s soft neck, stroking his fur with trembling fingers, Chance’s stomach twisted. He needed to get her out of there before she got any more upset.
“I’m okay.” He gentled his tone. “I was just… I didn’t expect you to end up here.”
Her brow wrinkled with confusion. “I was out for a walk. Should I have not…?” She looked at Holden and then back at Chance. “Is everything all right?”
No, it wasn’t, but Chance had no idea how to explain that to her without tearing open old wounds. Without scaring her even more.
“We’re fine.” His tone was edging back toward irritation. “Maybe we should?—”
“I told you to be careful.” Holden’s cold words tore Chance’s attention away from Cordy.
Chance’s back snapped straight. “What? I didn’t knock her up.”
Cordy gasped.
Chance felt like an ass. That wasn’t what he meant, damn it, but Holden always brought out the worst in him.
“Sure.” Holden snorted. “Met her at the Swing Inn, same as the rest. Guess you couldn’t kick this one out.”
His hands curled into fists. “You watch your tone around her. She’s not like that.”
“Right. Pregnant and living with you, but it’s not yours.” Holden’s expression said exactly how much he believed that. “One of ‘em finally tracked you down.”
Cordy was going whiter and whiter and if Holden didn’t shut up, Chance was in serious danger of decking him.
“Listen—”
Holden rolled right over Chance. “You couldn’t tell me I was going to be a grandfather?”
Christ, the crack in his father’s voice—you’d think the old man actually cared.
“You’re not,” Chance said bluntly. “Reed Saxon is the father.”
