Rock Chick Redemption (Rock Chick #3)(136)

“I like it too,” Mom whispered, coming close to Hank and me, grabbing my hand and looking at me like she was proud of me.

I felt a rush of warmth spread through me, though not enough of a rush to make me less pissed off, stil .

“Trish, you’re a f**kin’ nut. This is our daughter were talkin’ about!” Dad exploded.

“Yeah, and seems to me one of us raised her right,” Mom flashed back.

“Damn tootin’,” Daisy said.

“Fuckin’ A!” We al heard boomed from across the room.

I looked beyond Hank and Mom and saw Uncle Tex was standing at the door. He was wearing jeans and a flannel shirt and, if it could be possible, both his hair and his beard looked wilder than ever, like he’d been tearing at both of them. “How come I always miss al the action? God damn!” Everyone stared at him.

“Wel ?” he boomed again. “What happened? You okay darlin’ girl?” he asked me.

I nodded.

His eyes swung to Hank. “Nightingale?” he asked.

Hank moved to stand at my side. “Yeah.” he said.

“Wel , thank f**kin’ God,” Uncle Tex finished, completely oblivious to the charged air in the room. Then his gaze moved to the food. “Shee-it. Look at that food. Jesus Jones. What’re we waitin’ for? Let’s get this party started.

You got any hooch?” he asked Daisy.

“Champagne,” Daisy replied, her lips turning up on the ends.

“Wel , break it out, woman. None too happy I ain’t gonna get my go with that jackass in the holding room but, whatever. Now, I reckon if there was an occasion to drink somethin’ as stupid as champagne, this is f**kin’ it,” he looked to the room at large. “Am I right?” Everyone kept staring at Tex. No one was quite ready to let go of the latest battle.

“Wel ? Am I right?” Tex boomed.

Final y, Indy spoke. “You’re right, Tex. You are so right.”

“Marcus, Sugar Bunches of Love, bring us some champagne,” Daisy cal ed to Marcus but his head was already in their big, industrial-sized, stainless steel refrigerator. He turned, holding two bottles of champagne in one hand.

“I’l get the glasses,” Jet offered, moving toward a cupboard.

Hank’s arm went around my shoulders to wrap around my neck and I went stiff. I wasn’t quite ready to stop being pissed off at him.

His head dipped and his mouth was at my ear.

“We aren’t done talkin’ about this,” he murmured there.

I twisted my head to look at him.

“Yes we are, Whisky. No more talking, no conversations.

Official y, the minute that champagne touches my lips, Bil y Flynn becomes a memory.”

Hank stared me in the eyes; his eyes were working. I could tel he wasn’t done being pissed off either. Final y, he got it under control and his eyes cleared.

“You’re off the hook but only because this shit isn’t ever gonna happen to you again.”

I nodded in agreement but felt like having the last word.

“If it did, you have to know, I’d do the same thing. You aren’t the only one who’s al owed to protect someone you care about.”

He went back to being pissed off and clearly wasn’t going to let me have the last word.

“Sunshine –”

“No, Hank. I don’t want to hear it. Seriously. Now, we’re done talking.”

He watched me a beat, then two and then his eyes changed again to a look I’d never seen on him before and it was as far away from pissed off as it could be.

Quietly, just for me to hear, he asked, “You real y think your life began when you met me?”

My body jolted and if his arm wasn’t around my neck, I would have backed away a step.

I wasn’t ready for this. I’d said it in the moment and I’d meant it with everything I was but I didn’t want to discuss it.

Not now, maybe later.

A lot later.

“We’re not talking about that either,” I said to Hank.

He watched me again, a beat, then two and then during the third, his arm tightened around my neck, curling me into him. On the fourth beat, I was ful frontal. On the fifth, his other arm wrapped around my waist and his face went into my neck. On the sixth, my arms wrapped around him tight and I pressed my forehead into his shoulder.

On the seventh, although it was right in the room, it seemed far away, a couple of champagne corks popped and a bunch of people both Hank and I cared about cheered.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Normal

I saw Denver looming in front of me and, at the sight, I had a little thril that I knew was half-fear, half-excitement.

* * * * *

I’d been back in Chicago for three weeks, going out with friends to say farewel , arranging movers, packing, closing up the loft, meeting with clients, getting my ruined furniture towed away and dealing with the insurance company. I’d gone down to Brownsburg for a weekend and dealt with the whole Gil and Mimi explosion, when Mom, Dad and I told them al that had happened with Bil y.

“I’m gonna f**kin’ kil that motherf*cker!” Gil shouted after I was done tel ing the story.

Good grief.

“No need, son. The man doesn’t have a hand,” Dad replied.

Gil’s temper didn’t seem assuaged.