The Hookup (Moonlight and Motor Oil #1)(96)

There was a translation to that and Johnny translated it.

“She couldn’t go for child support because if she did, he’d fuck with her,” he declared.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Try to take you or at least get time with you just to screw with her, not that he cared dick about you, since he proved that being absent from your life and not even being a big enough man to send her some cash. And she couldn’t let that happen,” he said.

She nodded.

“He ever hurt you?” he asked.

“No, Johnny. No. Not me. Not Addie. Just Mom,” she assured him.

“But she was worried it’d come to that.”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. Maybe. We didn’t talk much about him. We just—”

“Kept on keeping on,” he clipped, finishing for her.

“Yes,” she said softly.

“And now you got an issue with me having money,” he stated.

“It’s . . . I’ll admit, it’s a shock.”

“You looked ready to bolt, Iz.”

“My, well . . . Kent is also . . . he’s, well—”

Her creepy ex Kent was rich too.

“Jesus, shit,” he hissed.

“They’re not you,” she told him hurriedly. “I should have put it together. You know, that you were, um . . . comfortable. With all that’s been happening I didn’t put it together so it was just a shock.”

He saw the fear in her eyes and he bit out, “I’d never hurt you, Eliza.”

“You threw a plate in the sink,” she said quietly.

“Because a man makes two beautiful daughters, he works until he fucking bleeds to make sure they don’t have to wear cheap plastic sandals. And if he can’t make that happen, he’s still there to clean their scraped knees, take pictures of them when they go to prom and walk them down the aisle to their future husband. But even when that happens, he doesn’t let them go. He never lets them go. You and your mother and your sister have eaten shit all your life because first, he’s an asshole abuser and second, he didn’t sort his shit out when you took off on him. He let you go.”

“Yes,” she agreed, the uncertain light in her eyes changing to something else entirely.

Johnny couldn’t process that either.

“And you’ve been making do ever since.”

She made no reply.

She didn’t have to.

He’d made the decision two days ago this shit ended.

Now he’d let her in on that.

“Your sister is gonna take the damn money from me, Eliza,” he informed her. “And like I told you, she’s gonna move into one of my properties when a tenant moves out. They’re nice places. The tenants don’t go often. But she’s not ready for that yet. Though when one goes, she’s got a home, she’s safe, her son is safe, and you aren’t gonna tell her I’m discounting the rent.”

That light in her eyes had fully changed to that something else entirely.

But still, she replied, “It’d be me that wouldn’t want you in a bind with that, Johnny, and I’d know.”

“I own them outright, Iz, so anything I make off them works.”

“We’ll talk to her tonight,” she said quickly, probably just to appease him.

He was glad she was in to do that.

But he didn’t feel very appeased.

“You should find him,” he replied.

Her brows went up. “Who? Dad?”

He didn’t answer that question.

He announced, “You should find him. You should walk up to his house in that dress and knock on the door, and when he answers, you should tell him who you are. And you should tell him since he wasn’t around to take pictures of you when you went to the prom, he isn’t walking you down the aisle. He isn’t seeing his grandchildren. He’s gonna die knowing the woman who gave him his daughters and the precious babies he made lived their lives happier without him in them.”

“Johnny, honey, it was a long time ago and we were happier without him,” she soothed.

“Did you get what happened when I was inside you last night?”

She stared up at him.

“Did you get it, Izzy?” he pushed.

“I think so,” she whispered.

“That’s the guy I am. Yours. Simple. That’s it. And you’re mine. Mine, Iz. And we take care of each other. And we look after those in our hearts and lives. So the Forrester Girls Club has a new member, baby. And he’s got a dick.”

The tension in her shoulders ebbed, her lips twitched but she asked, “Can I request no future throwing of plates?”

“You can but I can’t guarantee that won’t happen because I figure I got a lot more to learn about your dad and Kent, so anything’s game.”

“Then can I request that if you learn some of this at my house you don’t throw any of my plates?”

“Do you own a single plate you bought new?” he demanded to know.

She suddenly looked confused. “I . . . actually I don’t know.”

“Guess,” he pushed.

“Probably not,” she said.

“So no, I can’t promise that either. What I can promise is if I hear more about the shit you’ve eaten and plates go flying, I’ll replace them with the finest china that can be had.”