“You’re a selfish fucking prick for hanging on to her when you won’t be faithful. What about her happiness? Her future? Or have you even thought past your dick?”
Cutter’s jaw hardened as he spotted Brea’s clean plastic container on the table in his foyer and snatched it up. “I don’t have to justify myself to you. She’s my concern, and I’ll take care of her—always. But Brea is off-limits to you.” He pointed a finger in One-Mile’s face. “And if you step one more toe over the line, I swear I’ll fucking kill you.”
“Try it. We’ll see who winds up dead.”
Saturday, August 16
“Brea!” her father called across the house from his recliner.
“Coming, Daddy.” She hustled into the living room with his cup of coffee, a piece of dry, multigrain toast, and his morning medicine, then set everything on the table beside him. “Eat up and take your pills.”
She was surprised to see that he’d showered and shaved already, but not at all shocked by his sour expression. “Capsules of nonsense from a snake-oil salesman.”
“No, medicine prescribed by one of the best heart surgeons in the state,” Brea corrected. “Please take it. We don’t want to put your heart at risk again.”
She couldn’t. The news that he had collapsed and that she’d nearly lost him had devastated her. Though Pierce following her shopping that day had rattled Brea, she thanked God he’d been there. She had been in no shape to drive herself to the hospital.
Daddy grumbled but sighed with resignation. “Fine. When you’re done with your last client, I need you to run by the church and pick up my mail. If you get there by five, Tom will be meeting with the new youth group. Sit in on that session so you can tell me how he’s doing. Then if you can head out to the Richards’ farm… Apparently, Josette is having female surgery on Monday, and she’s asked for someone from the church to pray with them.”
“Tom should do it. That’s his job, Daddy.” And he’d let her know on the way home from the Rutherfords’ place the other night that he’d appreciate her taking a step back.
Her father scowled. “He gives a decent sermon, but he hasn’t learned how to compassionately connect with the community. You have. You know and love all these people. And you’ve got that gift of making everyone feel special.”
Brea appreciated that but… “I have to work all day. If I sit through the youth meeting, then go to the Richards’ farm for an hour or two, when will I eat? Plus, I’d planned to grocery shop and do some laundry tonight.”
Well, she should…but she found herself resisting the urge to seek out Pierce instead. She’d heard nothing from him since he’d tried to teach her to play pool. Admittedly, she was a little disappointed. It was foolish, but she’d hoped he might ask her on a date.
Is he really the dinner-and-a-movie type?
She needed to clear him from her head. Seeking Pierce out, even to thank him with cookies, had been impulsive, reckless, and desperate—three things she’d never been with a man. But he filled her with such exciting, unexpected feelings. Forgetting him was impossible.
“You can do that after church tomorrow,” her father insisted. “I know it’s an imposition, but we have a duty to this town. I can’t see to these people myself, and I raised you to think of others first. I need you, baby.”
And there it was, the button he pushed ruthlessly anytime she resisted doing something he asked. It only worked because he was right. She would feel terrible if she put her needs above those around her. “I’ll take care of everything.”
He smiled. “That’s my girl. So Cutter is taking you to breakfast before your first appointment this morning?”
“He is.” And she felt a giddy, guilty excitement at being able to get out of the house and relax for an hour.
“You ought to marry that boy. His daddy was a drunk, and Sweeney was better off without Rod, but Cage and Cutter both turned out to be good boys. Cutter would take care of you, Brea.”
He would, and they would both be miserable. “We’re friends, Daddy. That’s all.”
“So you keep saying.” He sighed. “Then I’ll pray you find a righteous, God-fearing man who makes you happy.”
Brea sighed. Her father didn’t mean to sound either old-fashioned or judgmental, but she wasn’t going to change him. “Thank you.”
A knock put an end to their conversation. Brea hustled to the door and let Mrs. Collins in just as Daddy took his first bite of toast and downed one of his pills. “Good morning.”
After some small talk, Jennifer sat on the ottoman at her father’s feet and smiled when her father grumbled about LSU’s first football game of the season still being another two weeks away. Thankfully, Cutter let himself in a moment later. Brea kissed her father’s cheek and promised to check in before thanking Mrs. Collins for spending the day with him.