“Damn straight,” Tate shot back and semi-repeated, “damn fuckin’ straight.”
Then he turned away from her and came right at me. He hooked an arm around my neck, turned me and propelled me forward as he prowled to the backyard, through it and to the backdoor.
Once we were inside, I whispered, “You okay?”
“Fuck no,” he replied, not whispering at all.
“Is there something I can do?” I asked and he stopped us in Pop’s living room, turned into me and looked down at me.
“You’re doin’ it,” he stated.
“I am?” I asked.
He looked over my head as he shook his then he looked back down at me.
“You love me?” he asked.
“Yes,” I answered instantly.
“That’s it, you’re doin’ it,” he finished.
His arm staying around my neck, he guided us to Jonas.
*
It was getting late.
I was sitting on Pop’s couch, sipping at a bottle of beer, leaning a bit into my Dad at my side while my fingers slid through Jonas’s hair, his head on my thigh, his body curled into the couch beside me, he was asleep.
“Like your boy,” Dad muttered and I looked at him.
“Which one?” I asked and Dad smiled at me.
“Both of ‘em,” he answered and I smiled back.
I looked across the room to see people pecking at the remainder of the food on the table, Tate and Stella standing amongst them, slightly removed. Tate had his arm around Stella’s shoulders, she was leaning her head on his and what appeared to be the rest of her weight into his side with her arms loose around his waist. Carrie and Mack were standing with them. From my vantage point I could see Mom in the kitchen with Pop. He had his hips to the counter, arm lifted, pulling at a bottle of beer at his lips. Mom was chattering at him while bustling around, moving leftover food from one plate to another, condensing at the same time she tidied. There was music coming from outside and the party was getting rowdy if the noise from the people out there was anything to go by.
“You feeling okay?” I asked Dad, not looking at him.
“Better,” he answered. “Got a new diet and exercises I do every day. Food stinks, I’d kill for some fried mushrooms but if I even looked at ‘em your mother’d have a conniption. She doesn’t even keep shortening in the house, she steams everything. Vegetables, fish, swear the woman would steam steak if she could do it,” Dad replied.
“You have to stay fit, get your cholesterol level down,” I told him.
“Your Mom keeps at it, my body’ll forget what cholesterol is,” Dad muttered, I grinned and looked down at Jonas’s head on my thigh as my fingers slid through his hair.
“Your Mom told me about him,” Dad said softly, “Tate.”
“Yes?” I asked softly back, my fingers moving again through Jonas’s hair.
“Said he took care of you when you found out about me bein’ sick. Brought you all the way to Indiana, laid it out for that idiot ex of yours,” Dad went on.
“Yeah,” I was still speaking softly.
“Gotta say, hon, years I been worried. Years, you with that man. Never trusted him to take care of my girl. Never. Never thought he’d look after you, keep you safe. And, in the end, I was right.”
I turned and looked at my father.
“Dad,” I whispered.
“Can’t tell you, Lauren.” His voice got lower and thicker, his eyes slid toward Tate before coming back to me, “Can’t say… beside myself knowin’ I can quit worryin’ about my girl.”
“Daddy,” I whispered again but said no more because Jonas’s body moved, like a flinch, and I knew he wasn’t asleep.
Before I could say anything to Jonas, Dad, who obviously hadn’t felt Jonas move, kept talking. “He’s a good man, I can tell, it’s stamped all over him but the best part is the way he looks at you and his boy.”
Jonas’s body got tighter.
“Dad –” I started.
“He’d die before he let anything hurt you,” Dad continued.
“Dad,” I said urgently as I felt Jonas’s body get even tighter.
Dad talked over me. “You or his boy, he’d lay his life down, wouldn’t blink, wouldn’t think.”
“Dad, Jonas is –” I started, Jonas rolled to his back and Dad’s eyes went to Tate.
“That’s the kind of man who’s good enough for my girl,” Dad concluded but I looked down to see Jonas looking up at me.
“What man were you with, Laurie?” Jonas whispered and out of the corner of my eye I saw Dad’s head jerk down to look at him but I kept my gaze on Jonas.
“You playing possum, Bub?” I asked on a grin, trying to change the subject.
“What man were you with?” Jonas repeated, not feeling like a subject change.
I slid my hand along his cheek and then rested it at the top of his chest. “I was married before I met your Dad,” I told him gently.
Jonas lifted up to sitting and twisted his torso toward me and Dad, his eyes on Dad.
“He wasn’t as good as Dad?” Jonas asked my father.
“Not by a long shot,” Dad answered firmly and Jonas looked at me.
Then he grinned which was when I relaxed.