Page 120 of Myla: The Hawthornes

Myla had always pushed my buttons, but it was safe to say that since we’d started sleeping together, the button pushing had started to feel more like I was getting smacked with a fucking hammer.

“I’m guessin’ that was my daughter?” Tommy asked, strolling toward me with a joint between his lips.

“How could you tell?” I asked.

“Shit, man,” he said with a laugh, taking the joint from his mouth. “You’re wearin’ my expression. Pretty sure I lookexactlylike that when Heather’s pissin’ me off.”

“I’m fine,” I replied.

“You look like you could flip over a car,” he mused. He pointed across the forecourt. “Try that one. It’s a piece of shit anyway.”

“I’m good.”

“She’s gonna annoy the hell outta you,” Tommy said with a shrug. “But the rest of her makes it all worth it. Take it from someone who knows.”

“I know she’s worth it.” I replied. “Plan on marryin’ her.”

“That didn’t sound like you were askin’ permission.”

“Because I wasn’t. I’d be happy for it,” I admitted. “But I’d marry her without it.”

“You do realize I could have you killed?”

“I’m aware of that, yeah,” I conceded.

Tommy laughed quietly and then nodded.

“She wants to go out bar hoppin’ with the girls,” I muttered after a few minutes of silence.

“The Three Musketeers strike again.”

“Somethin’ like that.”

“Who gives a fuck?”

“They wanna go without any protection.”

Tommy scoffed. “Dream on, daughter.”

“That’s what I said.”

“Bet that went over well.”

“She’s bein’ stubborn.”

“My daughter?” he asked in mock surprise. “Don’t believe it.”

“It’s fine,” I mumbled. “I’ll talk to her at Saoirse’s thing tonight.”

“We’re invited to that?” he asked curiously.

“Yep.”

“I’m sure Heather’s got it on her little calendar,” he said with a shrug. “I just go where she tells me. Easier that way.”

I nodded. I was going to see Myla in a few hours and we could work things out face to face. There was no reason to get all wound up about it. She’d either willingly take someone with her, or I’d get one of the boys to follow them around like the Secret Service. She could choose. I didn’t care how pissed she was about it.

As I went back into the garage to see if anyone could use some help, I couldn’t quite shake the feeling in my gut that something wasn’t right.

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