Page 132 of Lace 'em Up

Maybe I should have run.

Taken my chance.

But Zeus.

The little fluffy pupper that I rescued from a hoarder’s house. The pup who’s sweet and gentle as his sister is an adorable terror.

I can’t leave him.

I scramble over to the pup, covering his body with my own, grunting when Phillip’s foot connects with my ribs.

For fuck’s sake, I only just finally stopped feeling the occasional twinges from my previously bruised torso, finally stopped feeling the bone-deep ache and the odd burst of pain when I stretched the wrong way.

Now I was going to have to go through all of that healing again.

Which is another insane thing to think about when I’m currently being assaulted by my ex.

I get that.

But it still slides through my mind before the next time he makes contact with my side.

I grunt and Zeus whimpers, the noise enough to snap me out of my bullshit.

Not standing on the bow of the ship waiting for rescue.

Swimming my ass to shore myself.

With a corgi in tow.

Grinding my teeth against the fire in my side, my scalp, I tuck Zeus close, cradle him away from Phillip, and brace?—

Another kick that knocks me against the cabinets.

I shove the pain down as he winds up again, the motion giving me enough time to get my feet under me, to start pushing upward and?—

“You. Do. Not. Hit. Other. People!”

I blink—halfway up—almost unable to believe what I’m seeing.

Who I’m seeing.

Mama Bang.

Standing there in the kitchen, holding a hockey stick.

Or rather…swinging it.

At Phillip.

Each of those clipped-out words accompanied by her slamming the stick against Phillip’s back.

And shoulders.

And head.

Phillip’s eyes are wild and then he whips around, reaching for the stick. But Mama Bang, but Stella—damn, she’s fast—darts back and holding the stick like a lance. “Don’t you dare, you piece of shit.”

Zeus is shaking.

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