Chapter 47
Grease
I’d been half embarrassed and half impressed as I’d watched Callie stare down Slider and force him out of our room. It was a stupid thing to do, but hell if she didn’t do it in a way that had both Slider and Poet looking at her with respect.
We were standing around the counter, quietly making plans, when Callie tiptoed into the kitchen. She tried to act like she was unaffected by the men in our home, but I could tell that old demons were surfacing by the slightly panicked look in her eyes. I met her gaze and lifted my arm for her as she scooted around the counter and slid in beside me, wrapping her arms around my waist and laying her head on my chest.
“Hey, Sugar. Farrah still in the shower?”
“Yeah, Echo is helping her,” she answered me quietly. “She didn’t need me in there.”
“Yeah, he’ll take care of her.”
“Like he did before?” she scoffed lightly, before turning her face away from me.
I gave her that and didn’t start an argument, no matter how badly I wanted to set her straight. The man did his best, and he was broken up about it. There was no use pointing fingers at people who weren’t to blame, especially if Farrah had already forgiven him.
“You’ve got brass ones, girl,” Slider called to Callie from across the table, a smirk on his face.
“My name is Callie.”
“Know what your name is, but you threatened to kick me in the balls earlier, so I think I’ll call you girl.”
“Whatever.” She looked away from him with her nose up, and I couldn’t stop my lips from pulling into a grin. Brass ones.
“Girl,” Slider’s voice lowered, “I’m glad my daughter has you on her side. Ain’t many people that would stand up to a man like me.”
“I didn’t help when it mattered,” she confessed quietly.
“There was nothing you could do to stop it,” he answered, leaning forward across the counter. “Girl like you might think she can take on the world, but she’d be wrong. Don’t know her, but I have a feeling your friend is a whole lot like me—keeps her cards close to her chest. Doubt you even knew what was happening.” His voice lowered to an intense whisper, “You ain’t to blame for that.”
He leaned back and turned to Poet who was watching the scene with a thoughtful look on his face. “Need a smoke.”
As Slider left the room, Poet came to stand in front of Callie and reached down to run his hand along her hair in a soft gesture.
“Definitely not the same little girl I met a year ago,” he told her tenderly. “You keep fighting back, Callie. Proud’a you.” Then he followed Slider out of the house.
“Holy shit,” Callie commented, looking up at me in wonder.
“Yeah, Sugar. Looks like you have the seal of approval from two of the scariest men in the United States.”