“I know who he is.” Trey couldn’t keep the growl from his voice.
Across the room, Norah’s gaze sharpened, zeroing in on his arm around Sandy’s shoulder, on the hand she’d lifted instinctively to cover his, linking them. Trey gave a short, sharp shake of his head. He’d deal with that later.
“Where?” Cam’s one quiet word held a wealth of rage that Trey could respect. He felt an equal measure bubbling in his own blood—thirty years of banked frustration and leashed protective instincts.
“I don’t know where he’s staying, though the list of options certainly isn’t long,” Pete continued. “He was sitting at the light when I came out of McSweeny’s.”
Miranda stood, her hands curling to fists. “Wouldn’t take long to find out. A few phone calls, at most.”
“Are you sure it was him?” Liz asked.
“Positive.”
“Please tell me he’s gone bald and acquired a beer belly over the past twenty years,” Anita put in.
Pete shook his head, setting the ice cream on the coffee table. “No. He looks almost exactly the same. Older. But still recognizable.”
“Your hands aren’t bruised, so I know you didn’t chase after to confront him.” Sandy had gone pale, but her voice was steady.
“Against my better judgment, no,” Pete admitted.
Mitch cracked his knuckles. “I say we make those calls, stick dessert on the backburner, and go find a handy rail to run the son of a bitch out of town on.”
“I’ll drive,” Helen declared.
Trey approved of how they immediately circled the wagons. Campbells clearly protected their own. It made him feel a little better, knowing she hadn’t been entirely alone in those years after he’d left.
“None of you are doing anything.” Sandy rose, giving each of them a long look that said she meant business. Her gaze landed on Trey, those hazel eyes spitting fire. “None of you,” she repeated.
Are you fucking kidding me?
She’d done this in college. Forbad him from interfering every time he’d wanted to thrash Waylan for making her cry. Trey hated being hamstrung now as much as he had then. But for her sake, he worked on chaining down his temper.
“I’ll handle it,” Sandy insisted. “I’ve always handled it.”
Pete snapped to attention. “What do you mean you’ve always handled it?”
“When did you last hear from him?” Jimmy demanded.
She blew out an irritated breath. “Most recently…about four years ago.”
Cam exploded up from his seat. “When you were in the middle of—”
Sandy cut him off, her words simmering with frustration and impatience. “Yes. And I dealt with it.”
In the middle of her chemo treatment. The bastard had harassed her, while she was being ravaged by cancer and poison. The temper Trey had tamped down flared with a vengeance.
“You should have told me, Mom. You should have let me handle it. Handle him.”
“I know exactly what your version of handling it would entail, and I’m not having you brought up on assault charges against your father.”
“It’d be worth it,” Cam growled.
“And it would solve nothing.”
Quivering with frustration, he stared his mother down. “It’s my job to protect you.”
“Same goes. You’re still my baby.” Sandy crossed and took his face in her hands. “He doesn’t have the power to hurt me anymore, Campbell. He hasn’t for years. He’s just an…irritation. An inconvenience. I’ll never let him be more than that. Not again.”