He had to admit, she was taking all of this a fuckuva lot better than he’d ever have called it.

He also had to admit, it might have something to do with the blood loss, more to do with the pain, most to do with the emotion of the day, but he was fucking wiped.

Dead on his feet.

And last, he had to admit, she was normally cute when she was bossy.

But no way in fuck was she going anywhere without him until he had visions of her lying on her side, tied to a chair, with an asshole holding a gun crouched over her under control in his head.

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow,” he muttered, using his glass to push her glass toward her then taking his, and he downed the fire.

He put the glass down and refilled.

“Danny,” she said softly, reaching out and wrapping her fingers around his wrist. “Maybe you should go easy on that.”

He couldn’t go easy on it until he knew she was settled and he could swallow a pill, which would probably knock him out.

This was because it was boiling inside him.

Christ.

And he didn’t want to let her down. Hawk down.

Himself down.

But he was either going to shoot that shot or throw it across the room.

He was about to tell her she needed to let him do what he needed to do when her phone rang again.

She’d set it on the island.

She looked down at it.

He looked down at it.

It said STEPDAD ROB.

Seeing as she’d shared over dinner, and everyone who’d been witness to it had crowed how awesome it was (and Mag wished he hadn’t missed it), Mag was in the know about her activities that day in regard to her family.

In the know and down with every decision she made.

So, he was not all that down with the stepdad phoning.

Evie looked up at him.

“I think he’s worried about me and he’s the only one who’s given a shit throughout all this, so I think I should talk to him real quick just to let him know I’m okay.”

Legos and groceries and heading out in the dead of night to meet some asshole in a Lincoln Continental, Evie was always taking care of someone else when she should be looking after herself.

He didn’t like it.

But it was her, and one thing he’d learned in his life, you had to let people be who they were.

So he jerked up his chin.

He did the shot when she let him go and turned away to grab her phone.

“Rob?” she greeted. “Yeah, I’m okay.” Pause and, “Yeah, Danny’s here. We’ve had dinner. We’re just about to settle in, watch some TV and get some rest.” Pause then, “No. I haven’t told Sidney. Mostly because I didn’t want her worried but also because there was nothing she could do. But I’ve…well, for various reasons, I’ve cut ties with Mick and Dad.”

She stopped talking then whirled to Mag, and her eyes were big.

Cute.

Mag ignored other things about her face, including the fact one of her eyes couldn’t get as big as it should when she made that face, and he focused on that cute.

Strike that.

He latched on to it like it was a lifeline.

“You did?” she asked with unhidden surprise. “I-I…really don’t know what to say. But I think this is good. It probably doesn’t feel good, and I know she’s my mom, but you deserve better.”

When she stopped speaking, Mag wasn’t sure, but he thought he caught her mouthing He left her.

“What?” she asked into the phone. “Yes. But not tonight. I know you’re worried but I’m really all right. I’m with Danny and he’s,” she ducked her chin, “proven adept at taking care of me.”

Mag felt some tension release in his neck and instantly his shoulder felt better.

It wasn’t the Fireball dousing the burn inside.

It was those last words Evie said.

She turned a little away and spoke again into her phone.

“Maybe we can set that up sometime later. I do want you to meet him but right now he’s not a super big fan of my family so maybe we can give him a little time, I’ll work on that with him and we’ll figure something out.” Pause then, “Yeah.” Pause and, “That means a lot, Rob. Truly, it does. And you being how you’ve been through all of this means a lot too. I’m sorry it led to what it did between you and Mom, but sometimes things happen for a reason.”

She looked to Mag as she ended it over the phone with her stepdad.

“Me too, Rob. Thank you. Love you and talk to you later. Try to get some sleep.” Pause and, “’Bye.” She dropped the phone from her ear and announced, “He left Mom and he wants to meet you.”

“You’re right, I’m not a super big fan of your family, so I’m all in to break bread with Gert, who digs you and shows it, but that dude’s gonna have to wait,” Mag replied.

“Gotcha,” she mumbled.

Mag poured another shot and downed it.

Evie watched.

When he was done, she suggested, “Maybe we can lie down and watch a little TV.”

“I was vacuuming.”

Her head ticked.

“Sorry?” she asked.

“It was not a priority to vacuum. It was a priority to cover your ass. And I was vacuuming. Not covering your ass and look at you.”

“Danny,” she whispered.

But he couldn’t escape it no matter how hard he tried to block it out with her voice and her hair and her cute that he was learning could transcend almost anything.

Except that purplish-red along her cheekbone that was swelling upward and partly closing her left eye and the striated grazes that were already scabbing over that ran about an inch long under her right eye.

He poured another shot, saying, “You were probably out of your mind scared.”

“I was, that he’d hurt you.”

In surprise at these words, his gaze lifted again to hers.

“Please, sweetheart, let’s stretch out in front of the TV.” She shot him a grin. “I’ll watch Anaconda.”

“She lands on her feet,” he muttered.

“What?”

“You land on your goddamned feet!” he thundered, turned, and sidearm-threw the shot glass with such force, it embedded itself in the drywall opposite, liquor splashing a thin stream the entire way, fire searing through his shoulder as he did it.

He then pivoted back to her.

“It’s my job,” he thumped his chest, ignoring the new throb of pain that sent through his shoulder, “to keep you on solid ground.”

He stood there, his chest rising and falling, and each time it did, a nag of pain shot through his wound.

His arm was in a sling and he was staring at the woman he was set to make his, who looked like she’d followed her heart in the wrong direction and hooked up with O.J. Simpson.

Christ.

Christ.

And as she stood across from him, staring back, not speaking, he knew he’d really blown it by letting his fucked-up lack of control get the better of him.

Again.

She’d already seen it once that day.

Christ.

That was, he knew that until she asked, “Do you have a TV in your room?”

His chin jerked into his neck.

“Say again?”

“Well, I’m not about to get carried away in shenanigans that might tear your stitches, but you’d promised alternate sleeping arrangements tonight and I don’t want to be alone, I want to be with you. I also want you to lie your ass down and get some rest. So, do you have a TV in your room?”