“Not yet,” Aly whispered, tugging on my sleeve until my shoulders were against the wall. When I glanced down at her, she only shook her head, lifting her index finger to her lips to keep me quiet.
“I just think you deserve better than some dumb jock who can’t control himself.” If Cass meant to convince my mother that Kona was worthless, he was barking up the wrong tree. She might be mad at her husband. She might not even be bothering to answer his texts, but that was her. She could say and do whatever she wanted about him because he was hers. Cass insulting her husband? No. That wouldn’t go over well, a point that got proven in the handful of seconds that Cass finished speaking and my mother’s low, lethal voice whispered back at him.
“The hell did you say?”
I heard that familiar slip of temper. How many times had the echoes of cold fury bit into her tone over the years? How many times had Keira Riley donned the vestige of a mama bear when someone threatened me? How many prejudiced assholes did she kick out of the diner when they caught sight of Mark and Johnny sitting too close together or heard me, clearly not a white boy, calling my very white mother “Mama” and Bobbie, my adopted black grandmother “Granny B”? Mom was a tiger blinded by loyalty when anyone she loved got threatened or insulted. Smack talk wasn’t allowed. Neither were assumptions made that she knew were dead wrong. That’s why she now hurt so badly—that life long, burning loyalty she felt for Kona. Because she felt so deeply, so surely that he’d never hurt her and then it seemed like he had—that betrayal stung worse than she’d ever admit. But that was her business. Not some damn cowboy she’d found playing his guitar for ones in the French Quarter.
Cass really had no idea what he’d stepped in with that insult. He was about to find out.
“Answer me,” Mom said, any remaining hints of her depression or mild drunk gone. “You think my husband is guilty of the shit being thrown at him?”
“Keira, that’s not…” The cowboy’s tone was faint, a little frustrated and I leaned closer trying to hear him clearly. “Well, shit,” he amended, releasing a frustrated breath, “yes, I do. Someone like…that…with all that money, all those years surrounded by women throwing themselves at him, it’s a wonder this is just coming to light now. You know, the other kids.”
“Nothing is coming to light, Cass, except for how full of shit you are.” Mom’s voice lost some of its edge but I still picked up the caution. “Those women are lying. I’m not stupid. I know my husband.”
“Do you really?” For a few seconds I didn’t hear much more than the low exhale of Aly’s breath next to me, then the bristle of feet against the rug on the studio floor. There came a quick gasp and then Cass finally spoke again. “I’d never give you a reason to doubt me, darlin’. Not ever.”
“What are you doing?”
I got to just within the threshold of the door before Aly tugged on my arm, then pulled harder when I lunged, catching sight of Cass looming over my mother, his palm against her face, his arm around her waist as he tried to kiss her.
“What you want, sugar,” that asshole said, leaning in as I dragged Aly behind me.
Something stuck in my gut, made my throat work and sour, a sick taste coated the back of my tongue, but before it could gain purchase, my mother stepped back, pushing against Cass and maneuvered her foot to turn, right out of his touch so that the pivot she made had her away from Cass’s reach and the dumb cowboy bumping into the wall.
“Don’t you put your fucking hands on me, you asshole.” The quiet mouse, drawn and depressed that my mother had been for a solid week was suddenly gone, spurred on, it seemed, by insult and anger. “How dare you try…you must be out of your mind!”
“Keira, hold up now,” Cass started, lifting his hands, waving them as some lame attempt to pacify. “Baby…”
“Don’t you ever, and I damn well mean ever call me baby.” The idiot was thick, didn’t take her loud tone, her pinched, angry expression seriously, something Mom seemed to notice as the cowboy tried to approach again, completely ignoring me and Aly as we came fully into the room. And when Cass reached out, trying to get hold of Mom’s arm, my attempt to subdue him halted, made utterly pointless as Mom jerked back, slapping Cass’s face so hard that his pale skin welted quick and he frowned, clearly shocked at the sting she delivered.
“Get out of my house,” Mom said, stepping back, eyes cutting a cold threat in one flick of that hardened gaze. “Now.”