Page 62 of Daddy Issues

I couldn’t see his face, but the way Puck towered over JoJo told me everything I needed to know. This was about to get ugly. Eli’s little arms squeezed tight around my neck. I scrambled into the driver’s seat of the truck. Eli and I were both small enough that I could slip him between the seats into his car seat and buckle him in.

When one of JoJo’s friends edged closer, Puck swung on him without warning. I watched his fist connect with the guy’s jaw and send him sprawling on the ground. JoJo charged and Puck caught him in the nose with the elbow of that same arm.

Blood spurted everywhere, and I ducked away, focusing on Eli. The memory of the night in the frat house as Puck barged into that room played in my head.

“Who is the scary monster’s big bad wolf?” I asked him, grabbing a blanket.

“Dad.” But his eyes were big as plates, the carnival lights reflecting in them.

“Yup. Don’t be scared. It’ll be over in a minute.” I covered him with the blanket, turning so I could see Puck.

“Want me to tell you a story about him beating up the monsters?”

“Uh-huh.” His voice was strong, but I still heard the fear in it.

I cranked the truck as JoJo, shirt pulled up and clutched to his nose, and his four buddies surrounded Puck. He cracked his neck from one side to the other, slipped the rings off his fingers, and shoved them in his pockets.

“We were just having a good time, playing with her a little bit.” One of them jutted his pimply-faced chin out. He was barely more than a teenager. “Ain’t like she’s anybody to you.”

Puck snorted a half laugh. “You’re fucking dumber than you look if you believe that.”

“Hey, brother, how about I even the odds?” A familiar, youthful voice sounded from between a row of cars. Crash Vaughn, closed faced motorcycle helmet in his hands, sauntered up behind JoJo.

“One time, I was really sick and couldn’t move much. These bad men took me…” I started, shutting the door to muffle the sounds. But I never took my eyes off Puck.

I hadn’t been too concerned before, when it was five on one. He’d take some licks, but they were young and stupid. Skinny losers. Not to mention the pistol in the door if I needed it. But Crash’s appearance meant it was about to be a good show.

“Who’s the pretty boy? Bet he squeals like a pig.” The one with the piss yellow mullet moved closer to Crash.

Dude wasn’t wrong. Jester’s little brother was pretty. Big eyes, long lashes, sculpted mouth, and a proud jaw. But if they looked closer, they’d notice the scars, the slightly swollen lower lip…the scrapes on his knuckles.

If you knew Jester, you knew he and his brother fought competitively. That they were damn-fucking good at it.

“Wanna find out?” Crash winked and blew him a kiss. The move was so similar to Jester, for a moment I forgot he wasn’t.

“The bad men took me in this room and were going to hurt me. I was scared. Then the door, Eli, the whole door flew off that room, your dad kicked it so hard. In landed with aboomingcrash and scared all the bad men.”

JoJo dove for Puck again. His one-armed attack was wobbly, his punch off center, and Puck easily dodged it with a quick jerk of his head. Puck punched him in the stomach, hard, and sent him back to the ground. JoJo scrambled to his feet, still clutching his bloody nose, face red and eyes wild and angry.

The guy who’d been talking grabbed at Puck, who snatched him up by the front of his shirt and smashed his forehead into his nose. The head butt was so violent, blood gushed down that guy’s face and he fell to the ground.

JoJo still wasn’t getting up, instead he scrambled away on hands and feet.

“Your dad was bigger than they were, angrier. He knocked them down, and they didn’t get up.”

Puck threw a right, catching another guy in the face. He staggered but recovered and threw a couple of body shots at Puck that made me flinch.

Crash didn’t fight fair. He clocked pimple-face with the helmet then stomped the other guy on the ground before he could stand. Then he jumped at a third, who tucked tail and ran.

It was just Puck and the one with actual balls. I could imagine Puck fighting on the ice when he played hockey, the way he circled this guy, waiting on another punch.

“Were you scared anymore?” Eli’s little voice pulled me away from the action.

“No, baby, I wasn’t. Your dad picked me up and took me out of the bad place.”

“Because he loves you.”

I closed my eyes tight, not realizing until that moment how much those words hurt. Because they couldn’t possibly be true and it was dangerous to wish they were. Because every man who’d ever claimed to love me—my bio-dad, Ghost, and David—hadn’t. I was unlovable, for whatever reason.

---