Never Been Ready (Ready #2)(38)

I killed the engine and stepped out of the car. I met Logan halfway between our two cars, and we silently made our way up the driveway. He didn't ask what I was going to do. He just stood by me.

A few months ago, when I had gotten his wedding announcement, I'd thought he was weak for feeling so deeply for another person. But here I was, standing side by side with him as brothers-in-arms...fighting for a woman I would do anything to keep. And yet, I was too chickenshit to tell her.

I didn't bother knocking. I just let myself in. I made my way through the dingy kitchen that had crusty dishes in the sink and empty pizza boxes on the counter. I tried not to picture Leah living in this hellhole.

We found the piece-of-shit lying on a couch in the living room with a drink in hand, watching a rerun of some sitcom from the eighties. His eyes were half-closed, and he looked like he'd already drunk half a bottle even though it was barely noon. It was a miracle, or a f**king curse, that the man was still alive with functioning kidneys.

It took him several minutes to notice the two large men in his living room. His eyes finally moved lazily from the TV to us, and then they widened in surprise.

"Who the hell are you? If you've come to rob me, you picked the wrong house," he said, his words meshing together in an almost comical way, like he didn't give a f**k.

"Get up," I said, venom running through my veins.

He eyed me suspiciously, looking me up and down, before apparently deciding that I meant business. He rose from the couch, looking at us warily.

"You gonna tell me who the f**k you are?" he asked.

"I'm the man who loves your daughter."

At my words, I saw Logan's head snap from Leah's father to me. It was the first time I'd acknowledged those feelings and said the words. It felt good. Like really good. I wanted to do cartwheels and shit. I didn't know when I'd get the courage to tell Leah how I felt, but at least I was being honest with myself now.

"Well" —he laughed —"don't get too attached, son. She's just like her mother —a tease and a whore. Find someone better and move on."

My fist flew so fast at his face that I didn't even process the fact that I'd hit him until his head snapped back. Good mood gone. I went at him again, but I was pulled back.

"Easy, man. Remember why you're here," Logan said.

Leah —I am here for Leah.

Breathing heavily, I tried to calm myself, even though every inch of me was now twitching with adrenaline. I watched as the f**ker wiped the blood off his split lip. At least he knew how it felt now.

"Here's how it's going to go, jackass." I pulled out my checkbook from the inside pocket of my leather jacket and set it down on the counter, talking while I wrote. "You are going to leave town. I don't care where the f**k you go or what you do, but you are never coming back. From this day on, Leah doesn't exist to you."

I ripped out the check and handed it to him. His eyes focused on the amount and nearly bugged out of his head. I'd given him half a million dollars. It was more money than most people saw in a lifetime. I wanted to make sure he never came back.

"I don't care what the f**k you do with this. Go to rehab, or drink yourself to death. I don't give a shit. But one thing you will never do is come back here, asking for more. The second you do, Leah and I will report you for abuse and have you in jail so fast that your head will spin. The only reason you're not there now is because I don't want her going through a lengthy public trial, but don't test me. I will if I have to, and I hear child abusers don't get treated real well in the slammer."

He hadn't looked up at me since that check had been shoved into his hands.

I grabbed the front of his shirt to get his attention. "Do you understand?"

He nodded. "Yes. Don't come back ever," he said, grinning.

Whatever hope I'd had that the man might have a tiny bit of decency evaporated as I watched him worship that check. He now had a new idol, and it was money.

"One more thing, and then we're out. I want everything you have that belonged to Lily. Whatever is left of Leah's mother, I want it."

He looked at me then, puzzled, before saying, "Sure, fine. It's all in the attic. Take whatever. I don't care."

"Oh, and Mr. Morgan? Or can I call you Clayton?"

He drunken gaze found mine.

"There's one more thing." My fist came flying toward his face for a second time that day. This time, when I punched him, I made sure he didn't get up.

~Leah~

I knocked on Clare's door and waited patiently. I didn't usually knock on the door, but after last night, I thought a bit of manners might be in order. Tapping my foot nervously while balancing the bags in my hands, I stared at the door, willing it to open. I thought about calling this morning and apologizing for my vicious behavior over the phone, but I decided she deserved this in person. And I brought backup.

The door finally opened, revealing Clare dressed in yoga pants and a pink thermal long-sleeved shirt. This was what Clare called her morning wear —not pajamas but not dressed either. She'd said it was in between. It made her feel a little less lazy since she wasn't technically in PJs, and it was more comfortable than wearing jeans while doing house chores. I'd called it her whacked mommy logic because they were still pajamas in my book. I'd told her she'd do anything to get out of having to get dressed for as long as possible.