Colin must have seen the shift in Dameon’s mood. He walked over and sat beside him. “I’m glad you were there.”

“Me too.”

Matt pushed the punching bag his way. “Want a swing at this thing?”

Dameon looked at his hands. “I had the satisfaction of the real thing.”

“Lucky you,” Emmitt said. He took the gloves from his son and punched the bag.

Colin lifted his empty bottle. “Anyone want another?”

Dameon looked up, shook his head.

“Dad?”

Emmitt stood from where he was perched. “Why don’t you go inside? I want a word with Dameon.”

Matt and Colin exchanged glances.

Once they left, Dameon swallowed . . . hard.

Emmitt sat silent for what felt like forever.

Dameon spoke first. “I wanted to kill him.” He lifted his hands in front of him as if he was grabbing the bastard by the neck. “I never really understood newscasts that talked about blind rage driving a person to extremes. But I get it now.”

Emmitt sighed. “When my sons were born, I realized what loving someone unconditionally meant. I knew I could teach them to defend themselves no matter what. But when Gracie came along . . . I was at a loss. Here’s this little tiny girl with all the fragile parts girls have . . .” He lifted his hands as if he were holding an infant. “I was scared. I’d seen a lot of this big bad world and what happens when it chews you up and spits you out. So I did what any cop would. I raised her like I did my sons.”

Dameon smiled at the image he found himself seeing through Emmitt’s eyes.

“Oh, Nora did the girlie stuff. Makeup and those stupid shoes she insists on wearing. But Gracie was tough. She always fought back. Then last year, after that unfortunate incident with Erin’s ex, I watched the fight in Gracie fade.”

Emmitt met Dameon’s eyes. “Then you came along. And I feel I got my girl back.”

“I’d love to take credit, but that’s all her.”

Emmitt shook his head. “Nope. Not completely. You gave her her confidence back. And I want you to know I appreciate it.”

Dameon felt his chest fill with pride. “Thank you, sir.”

Emmitt nodded. “Your dad would have been proud.”

Oh, damn.

Dameon’s eyes swelled with tears. He swallowed the lump in his throat.

Emmitt stood and reached for Dameon’s hand. Instead of a handshake, the older man pulled him in for a hug. “Thanks for protecting my little girl.”

Don’t cry.

Don’t cry.

Aww, fuck.

They both pulled away and wiped at their eyes as they attempted to look in the other direction.

“I’ll let you, ah . . . have a minute,” Emmitt said as he started to walk away.

Dameon stopped him. “Sir?”

Emmitt turned and faced him.

“I have a question for you before you go.”

Grace’s dad walked in from the garage first, his eyes a little watery, his nose a little red.

Her brothers were both sitting on the edge of the fireplace hearth drinking beer. Parker sat on one side of her, Erin on the other. Her aching ankle was propped up on pillows on the coffee table.

Her mom popped up from her chair and went to her husband.

“Hey, Dad?” Grace called from the couch.

“Yeah, baby?”

“I’m okay.”

Emmitt waved a hand in the air. “Don’t mind me. There’s pollen in the air.”

Her dad and mom walked up the stairs together.

“Can someone go check on Dameon?” Grace asked.

Matt started to stand when the door to the garage opened.

Parker moved to the chair Nora had just vacated, leaving room beside Grace for Dameon to sit.

He looked about as choked up as her dad.

“You okay?”

His arms wrapped around her shoulders. “I will be in three or four years.” He leaned over and kissed her gently.

Matt slapped his hands on his knees. “Okay, let’s talk about something pleasant. Erin and I are going to elope.”

Grace stopped staring at Dameon to snap her eyes to her brother.

“No way,” Parker said.

“Is this because of the baby?” Grace asked.

Matt elbowed his brother. “Did you tell them?”

Erin laughed.

“Oh, please. Like we couldn’t figure it out on our own,” Parker said.

“You can’t elope. Mom and Dad will kill you.”

“Okay, not elope, per se, but we’re thinking a long weekend in Maui. Get everyone on a plane sometime in the next month.” Erin tapped her stomach. “Before it becomes obvious.”

“Nobody is going to care if you get married while you’re pregnant.”

Matt cleared his throat. “No way. Remember what Dad always says. The first baby comes anytime . . . the second one takes nine months.”

Grace laughed until it started to hurt.

An hour later, Dameon had carried her to her parents’ guest room, the room that was once hers, and closed the door behind them.

Grace leaned back against the headboard. “I think I could sleep for a week.”

“You didn’t drink a lot of that wine, did you? The doctor said—”

“One glass, and I’m pretty sure my mom watered it down like I was twelve.”

Dameon smiled. “I like your mom.”

“Was everything okay with you and my dad?”

He slid one shoe off at a time. “I think I might be growing on him.”

“You sure? You were both pretty worked up when you came in.”

“Nawh. I think there’s some solvents open in the garage.”

Grace shook her head. “Yeah, and pollen flies around when it’s raining.”

Dameon slid back against the headboard with her. “Your dad and I are good. He just wanted to talk a little longer. He’s a good man.”

She leaned her head on his shoulder. “I’m so glad you came when you did.”

He kissed the top of her head. “Oh, honey. I am, too. When I think about what could have happened.”

“Yeah, but it didn’t. And Max . . . what the heck was up with that?”

“We didn’t get much of a chance to talk. He told me his dad is sick and the fiancée ditched him.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah. He was out looking at the jobsite and feeling guilty.”

She sighed and felt her eyelids get heavy. “Sometimes bad things remind you of the good things.”

“You can say that again.”

Maybe it was the narcotics, or the watered-down wine . . . “Sometimes bad things remind you of the good things.”

Dameon’s chest rumbled with laughter under her ear. “God, I love you.”

It took a second, but her eyes opened as his words sunk in.

She lifted her head from his chest. “W-what?”

“I. Love. You.” He placed his palm on her cheek. “One hundred percent head over heels.”

“Dameon . . .”

“Sometimes you just know. And that’s where I’m at. If you’re not there yet, it’s okay—”

She shook her head. “Oh, no . . . I’m there. Which is dumb because we haven’t known each other very—”