Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 138315 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 692(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138315 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 692(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
But the mild tick to the man’s head, the shock that registered in his expression, followed by a rush of warmth and …
Fuck.
Gratitude.
He loved his daughter.
Fuck.
Don Yates loved Hattie.
Axl didn’t ask what she had texted him, but obviously she didn’t share who was coming.
And now the man was meeting his girl’s boyfriend. And the fact he hadn’t met one since the one she had in high school had to scream this was important.
And Don Yates knew that.
It meant something to him.
It meant something his girl would bring her man to meet her dad.
Don knew he treated his daughter like garbage. He knew it was duty that brought her to his house.
And now Axl knew he played her because he’d fucked up so huge with her, he was continuing to play her to make excuses to see his girl.
Don moved forward, it was cumbersome, like his feet hurt, and he did it with his hand extended.
“Axl?” he asked as Axl let Hattie go to offer his own hand.
“Yeah, Don, nice to meet you,” Axl said as they shook.
“You too, uh … yeah.” He cleared his throat. “You too. Um,” he looked to his daughter, “honey, why didn’t you share you were bringing your boyfriend over?”
“I told you it was someone special I wanted you to meet,” she replied.
“Well, yeah, darlin’, but … right … okay.” He returned his attention to Axl, swinging an arm to the couch that sat at corners to his recliner. “Please, have a seat.”
Axl nodded but looked down at Hattie. “You gonna hang with us, baby, or get down to dinner?”
“I thought dinner,” she said and turned to her father. “Sorry, Dad, but we have plans.”
They did.
To eat their own dinner at his house, watch a movie, fuck and sleep.
Nothing major.
Or at least not that major they had to cut something as important as a Meet the Dad short.
She wanted this done.
Then she wanted out.
“You need my help?” Axl asked her.
She tipped her eyes up to him. “No, honey. You and Dad, uh … talk.”
“Right,” he murmured.
She again looked to her father. “I thought a pork chop with rice and some peas and corn.”
“We got hot dogs in there, darlin’. And crescent rolls. How about pigs in a blanket and mac and cheese?”
Axl knew zero about diabetes, but he knew good fuel and that wasn’t it.
“Dad—” she began.
“It’ll be quicker and then you and your man can get on with your evening,” Don said, now the thoughtful father.
She hesitated, muttered, “Okay,” then asked, “You guys want a beer or something?”
“I’ll have one,” Don said and, magnanimous, “Axl?”
“Sure, I’ll go with Hattie and bring them in,” he offered.
But Don shook his head.
“No, no, sit. I’ll go with my girl. Take a load off.” He was pulling it together. Smiling. “Make yourself at home. I’ll be right back.”
With a glance to Axl, Hattie headed to an inner doorway, her father following, his hand hovering on her back like a doting dad.
Axl took his seat and it was good he had a second because he had to rethink this situation.
Because it was not a situation where he could get up, even mildly, in a dickhead father’s shit for treating his daughter like crap.
This situation was something bigger and he didn’t know how to proceed.
Goddamn it.
Don came back in, not at one with his body, though Axl could see, in the past, he probably was built.
On closer inspection, the guy looked older than he probably was, and he moved even older than that.
Axl partially got out of his seat to take the beer offered when Don made it to him.
He resumed his seat, Don sat, and Don started it.
“Hope you like Fat Tire.”
“Don’t think you’re allowed to live in Colorado and not like Fat Tire,” Axl replied.
A pleased smile before Don sucked back some beer.
Axl followed suit.
“So you’re why my girl’s not been coming around to see her old man,” Don noted when he was done swallowing.
“Yeah,” Axl confirmed.
“How did you two meet?” Don asked.
Now they were in Dad Interrogation Zone.
“A friend set us up.”
Don nodded. “Yeah, well, yeah, that’s the way it goes.” His gaze moved from Axl’s head to his running shoes and the interrogation continued. “What do you do for a living?”
“Contract tactical security,” Axl semi-told the truth, semi-lied, using terminology the whole crew used that said some of it, not nearly all of it, was confusing and easily blown off if secondary questions came like, “What’s that?” they could say, “It’s complicated.”
Don’s eyes did the up-and-down-again thing before he murmured, “Right.” Then, without asking Axl to expand on his earlier answer, “You been doin’ that long?”
“Few years.” Axl took a sip, swallowed and said, “I was in the army before that.”
“Well, son, thank you for your service.”
Never quite knowing what to say when people said that, Axl rarely said anything.