Page 61 of Rage's Heart

Her reply was almost instant.

No, I’m fine. Don’t worry. Have fun at your mom’s. Tell me ALL about it tomorrow!

I sighed, slipping the phone back into my purse. “She says it’s fine, but I’m going to go by and check on her tomorrow.”

“I’ll go with you,” Rage said immediately.

“I’m not sure that’s?—”

“—Non-negotiable, babe.” His tone was gruff. “That piece of shit made you feel unsafe. I’m not letting you anywhere near him without me.”

I started to argue again, then thought better of it. The truth was, I didn’t want to face Chad alone, either.

“Okay,” I agreed. “But let’s focus on one disaster at a time. We’re here.”

Rage pulled up to the curb in front of the house I grew up in. It was a modest two-story house with blue shutters, a red door, and a well-kept lawn. Beautiful white roses lined the front of the house. They were my Mom’s pride and joy.

Before I could even reach for my door handle, Rage was there, opening it for me.

I smiled sheepishly. I hadn’t even heard him get out. Not that I needed to worry. My man might be rough around the edges, but he was old school in a lot of way. Like opening doors.

“Ready?” he asked, offering his hand.

I slid my hand in his and nodded. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

The front door swung open before we even reached the porch, revealing my mother in all her welcoming glory. Lillian Davis was a force of nature in a floral apron, her graying blonde hair pulled back in a neat bun, and the warmest smile this side of the Mason-Dixon Line.

“McKenzie Nicole!” she exclaimed, pulling me into a tight hug the moment I was within arm’s reach. “You look lovely, sweetheart.”

“Hey, Mama,” I said, breathing her in. “Sorry we’re a little early.”

“Nonsense,” she waved off my apology, turning her attention to Rage. Her eyes widened slightly as she took in all six-foot-three inches of tattooed male standing beside me, but to her credit, she didn’t miss a beat. “And you must be Bryce.”

I felt a rush of pride as Rage straightened, holding out his hand. “Yes, ma’am. Thank you for having me in your home.”

Mom’s eyebrows shot up, clearly surprised by his manners. She took his hand, her small one disappearing into his much larger tattooed one. “Well, aren’t you polite? Just call me Lillian, dear. ‘Ma’am’ makes me feel old.”

A genuine smile touched Rage’s lips. “Yes, m—Lillian.”

“Much better,” she nodded, stepping back to usher us inside. “Come in, come in. Chelsea’s already here with the girls. They’re dying to meet you.”

As we stepped inside, I caught the scent of Mom’s famous pot roast wafting from the kitchen.

“Mac!” A high-pitched squeal of delight preceded the thunder of small feet as Emma and Brooklyn came barreling around the corner. They slammed into me with enough force to make me stagger backward into Rage’s solid chest. His hands automatically steadied me, a soft chuckle rumbling through him.

“Hey, monsters,” I laughed, kneeling to hug them. “I’ve missed you!”

“We missed you too,” Emma declared as her eyes traveled up all that was Rage. “Is he your boyfriend?”

I glanced up to find my man looking mildly terrified by the sudden attention of two small humans. It was adorable.

“Yes,” I confirmed. “This is Rage. Rage, these are my nieces, Emma and Brooklyn.”

Brooklyn, always the braver of the two, took a step forward and looked straight up at him. “You’re really tall.”

“Yep,” Rage agreed, crouching down to her level. “And you’re really short.”

Brooklyn giggled, the ice officially broken. “Are those dragons on your arms?”

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