Getting Played (Getting Some, #2)(55)

My dad steps out the front door onto the stoop—and the whole family squeezes out with him.

“That’s not your spot, jackass!” He points at the line of my family’s cars parked at the curb in front of my parent’s place. “It’s on my side of the property line.”

I feel it when Chet’s attention shifts to me. It’s like a snake slithering over your grave.

“Are you kidding me, Lainey, you’re pregnant again? You gotta learn to keep those legs closed once in a while, babe. Learn to just say no.”

I hate that my neck goes hot with embarrassment. I have nothing to be ashamed of—I know that and the people I love most know it too. But to hear him say those things in front of my son, my parents—to know that’s what he thinks of me, even if I don’t care what he thinks—is pretty awful.

My sisters react faster than I do, flipping Chet off, cursing him out—even Brooke, who hardly ever curses tells him to eat shit and die. My own “screw you” is locked and loaded on my lips, but before the words are out, another voice cuts through the clatter of outrage.

“What the fuck did you just say?”

Everyone goes quiet. Because there’s both fury and authority in Dean’s voice—like he owns the right to defend me. That tone snaps in the air like a whip and demands to be listened to.

I follow behind him as he heads down the steps to the walkway.

“Dean, it’s fine.”

“Nope, not fine. Not even a little.”

I grab his arm.

“He’s not worth it.”

Dean stops and turns around, his eyes blazing. Then he holds my chin.

“No, he’s not. But you are.”

And I’m pretty sure my heart faints.

My sisters, up on the porch, concur.

“Ooh, I’m starting to like him,” Brooke says softly.

“He’s slowly winning me over. Like salt and vinegar chips,” Judith adds.

“It was a good line.” Erin shrugs. “We’ll see.”

Linda takes a pencil out of her hair. “I’m gonna use that.”

A moment later Dean is right up in Chet’s face, pushing the douchebag back with the force of his presence alone.

“I asked you a question, asshole. What did you say and what makes you think for a fucking second that you can say it?”

“Are you with her, dude? Sorry to break it to you, but Lainey’s a total slut. In high school she—”

And that’s all she wrote. That’s all Chet gets to say—because Dean clocks him square in the face, knocking him on his ass with one punch. Blood spurts from his nose and I swear I hear the crunch from here.

“Yes!” Judith jumps up—she was always the bloodthirsty one. “Nice shot.”

Dean crouches down and lifts Chet up by the front of his shirt. “Talk about her again and I’ll break every bone in your body. Do not make me come back here—you’ll fucking regret it.”

I’m not usually into violence, but I’m not going to lie—the way Dean Walker does it is nothing short of magnificent.



~



After the front lawn fight, Dean and Jason are out on the back porch, having another mano a mano chat. And I’m in the kitchen, peeking out the window—watching and listening—again. But this time I’m not alone. Eavesdropping is strong in my family, and my sisters and mother are all gathered round.

“That was freaking awesome!” Jay exclaims.

“No, Jay. It was not awesome.”

“What are you talking about? He said—”

“I know what he said. And it was messed up and wrong . . . but they were just words. Adults shouldn’t solve their problems with fighting, I want you to understand that. I could get arrested for assault. I could lose my teaching license.”

Jason scoffs. “That’s not going to happen. He’s too much of a chump to ever admit to anyone you kicked his ass.”

“That’s not the point, kid.”

“So what are you saying? You regret it?”

Dean snorts. “Not even a little.”

Jaybird starts to laugh.

“Your mom deserves someone who’s going to kick anyone’s ass who talks about her like that—and I’m happy I get to be that guy. But I don’t want you doing anything like that. Ever. You use your words. Are we clear?”

I can almost hear my son rolling his eyes.

“So basically, you’re saying do what you say, not what you do?”

“Yes. That’s what I’m saying.”

“Wow, Dean. I think that officially makes you a dad. Congratulations.”

“I think that officially makes you a smartass.” Dean laughs, nudging Jay’s shoulder. “But thanks.”

My father steps out onto the porch next and hands Dean a beer and a bag of frozen peas.

“For your hand,” he says gruffly.

Dean takes a drag from the beer and lays the peas on his knuckles.

“My daughters tell me you’re a drummer,” my dad says as he lowers himself into the folding chair.

“Yes, that’s right.”

“He’s the offensive football coach too, Pops. And the Mathlete’s advisor,” Jason volunteers. Then he asks Dean, “Can I have some of your beer?”