“What the hell is going on?” Chance demanded. “Did I forget your birthday or something?”
“Don’t come stomping in here.” Rye slung his father’s arm over his neck and helped the old man up. “She was just fine. And you upset him for nothing.”
Guilt made Chance snap back, “He’s the same as he always was. And you heard him with Cordy. Accusing her of shit.”
“Iaccusedyou. And I’m sitting right here.” However, Holden wasn’t as frightening as he wanted to be, not with him hanging off Rye. “Boy, you need to check that attitude. I’m still yourfather. I have a right to know what’s going on. Especially if you’re having a baby.”
Holden didn’t have that right at all. As if checking out and right into a bottle for years made him a father.
Look at what Cordy was doing for her kid and the baby wasn’t even here yet. She’d never disappear on her kid. She’d be there through thick and thin—another reason she didn’t need to be around Holden.
“I’m not having a baby,” Chance said flatly.
“Even if it is Reed’s,” Holden said, “you’re acting like it’s yours.”
Red flashed through Chance’s vision, but all he said was, “Don’t call the baby ‘it.’”
“Come on.” Rye tugged at Holden’s arm. “This fussing isn’t good for anyone.” He looked at Chance. “She’s out there waiting for you.”
For a moment, Chance considered pressing the issue. Holden needed to understand it wasn’t any of his damn business. He couldn’t be talking about Cordy like that, he couldn’t be putting his nose into Chance’s life, and he’d damn sure better stop calling that babyit.
But then Rye’s last sentence cut through his haze. Cordy was out there, probably upset, maybe scared, and definitely wondering what the hell had just happened.
Chance ought to be with her and not opening up old wounds with his old man.
The tramp of boots told Cordy that Chance was coming toward her.
She stared fixedly at the goats, her arms wrapped tightly between her boobs and her belly, the only place on her torso small enough for her to hold onto anymore. The massive oak shaded her and Iggy, but she couldn’t hide from Chance.
She told herself everything was fine. Nothing that went on in that house was any of her business.
Hadn’t Chance told her last night he’d be no good for her? That all he could offer her was a place to stay?
Repeating all that didn’t make her believe it, though. She desperately wanted to know what was going on back there. Holden was clearly ill and had once been an alcoholic, and Chance was… completely freaked out about it.
Chance came to stand next to her. He said nothing, just stared at the goats. From the corner of her eye, she caught his stony expression. He wasn’t smiling now.
“Thanks for breakfast,” she said softly. “You didn’t have to. Especially the decaf coffee.”
“I did.” His tone was grim. “You gotta eat.”
“I can feed myself.”
He shook his head like she was making no sense.
The goats watched them and chewed their cud. It was almost cartoon-like how aggressively they did it. Like mean teenage girls giving someone the hairy eyeball and snapping their gum like their lives depended on it.
The silence stretched on, deepened until it became a pit between them. It made her itchy under her skin, but Cordy would wait.
He’d been the one to cause a scene. He could start explaining it.
Chance shuffled his feet, cleared his throat. Cordy braced herself for more small talk.
“So you met him.” Chance’s voice was gruff. Not at all affectionate.
That had been his father in there, but there was no love for the man in Chance’s demeanor.
Cordy swallowed hard. She and her parents weren’t close, but she would never talk about her dad in that tone. “I didn’t know who lived there. I was only curious.”
