Page 95 of Perfect Alpha

Cade heads inside to grab his keys, and I stand to clear the dishes. But then Carl suddenly grabs my wrist so hard that I swear the bones crunch.

“Who are you?” Carl demands.

“I’m Victory,” I reply softly, doing my best not to panic.

“Hannah?” Carl asks, and my eyes fill with tears.

There’s no sense of needlessly upsetting him any further because he won’t remember this conversation in a few minutes.

“Hannah will come to visit you,” I promise, trying to ease my hand from his vice grip without visibly wincing.

“I’m not going!” he screams.

I don’t notice his fist coming until it’s too late.

Carl connects with my jawhard, rattling my teeth and making me bite my tongue. My mouth fills with the metallic taste of blood, and I jump back just in time to avoid being hit again, shouting for Cade.

He’s there in an instant, locking his strong arms around his dad’s swinging fists. “Dad! Stop! That’sVictory, Dad, you know her. Stop!”

“She’s your wife?” Carl asks, the fight draining out of him.

Cade’s eyes are molten when they meet mine. “Yes, Dad. She’s my wife.”

Despite the soreness in my jaw, chills shoot along my spine when I imagine Cade’s statement was true. Living with him since Hannah’s death has shown me exactly what it would be like to have him in my corner again.

And, damn, I miss him.

Cade has made it very clear that he wants me back, but he’s given me such deep-rooted trust issues that I’m not sure I can ever get over them.

Plus, the logistics of living in different states – at least temporarily – would be an absolute nightmare when we’re repairing our broken foundation.

Cade is still holding his dad’s arms as he leads him toward the truck. After he gets Carl settled, he runs straight back, hugging me tight as his tears soak my skin.

“I amsosorry,” Cade mutters into my neck. “I can’t believe I let that happen.”

“It’s not your fault or his,” I assure him.

The last thing this man needs is any more guilt to carry around.

He touches my tender jaw and closes his eyes. “There’s already a bruise.”

“It’s okay,” I soothe.

“You better wait here.”

We had been planning to make the drive together, but now I agree that might not be such a good idea if it’s going to cause Carl extra anxiety.

“I’ll pick up Aidan from the twins,” I tell him, sure that my parents will lend me their car. “We’ll have a movie night when you get home.”

“You mean the world to me,” Cade says, his eyes burning with emotion. “You know that, right?”

Before I can reply, he jogs back to the truck, and I watch him drive away until the taillights fade in the distance.

“What movie do you want to watch, little man?” I ask Aidan, who is uncharacteristically subdued.

We’ve just finished his favorite dinner of spaghetti, meatballs, and homemade garlic bread, complete with extra chocolatey milk.

“Me go Mama’s work. No movie,” Aidan says firmly. “Mama do story time. Mama do voices best.”

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