Jagger didn’t respond.
Keith risked a glance and found his brother scowling. “What?”
“The fuck is wrong with you?” Jagger asked with more heat than Keith would have expected. He slammed his clenched fist on the dash. “God, you’re an idiot.”
“What the hell? Why are you getting all worked up about my relationship?”
Jagger scoffed. “Because you’re a moron. Because you have an incredible woman who’s crazy about you, and you’re too much of a pussy to admit you feel the same. You still think she’s like Della and she’s gonna trade you in for someone shinier.”
He pulled up to a red light and faced a fuming Jagger. “Look, Jag, I know you’re fond of her and have worked with her a lot, but you don’t know her like I do.”
Jagger tilted his head. “You saying she talks about missing her old life? Mentions that she wants to go back to LA? She’s antsy here and unhappy? That what you’re saying?”
Guilt twisted in Keith’s gut. Damn, nosey family. “Well, no. Not exactly.” The complete opposite, actually. Mickie took every opportunity to reassure him about how happy she was with her life in Vermont and with their relationship.
“Look, brother, don’t pin your head shit on her. All us Benson kids have our own issues. You can’t grow up with parents like ours and be without baggage. But that’s on you. Not her. She hasn’t given you a single reason to think she regrets her decision to move here and change her career. Shit, man, she’s fucking loving her life right now and you are the main reason for it. Gotta start trusting it some time, man.”
Keith let the words sink in. Jagger was right. Mickie hadn’t done anything to deserve his continued skepticism, but he just couldn’t shake it. No matter how much he wanted to and no matter how much she deserved his trust and faith, he couldn’t hand it over yet. Not all of it anyway.
“I don’t get it at all,” Jagger said with a smirk. “What she sees in you, I mean.”
“Fuck you.” Keith said, flipping him off. The light turned green, and he continued toward their house. Thankfully Jagger ceased the inquisition, but that only gave Keith quiet to think. He was pretty sure he loved Michaela Hudson. It had hit him like a ton of bricks the night she sat on his lap and listened to him pour out his screwed-up past. But, two months later, he couldn’t give her the words. Every time he tried, his jaw locked up and his tongue seemed to swell.
But Jagger was right. Somehow he had to unfuck his head, or he’d lose her and have no one to blame but himself and his own stupidity.
With a sigh, he turned onto their street. “Thanks, Jag,” he said. And he meant it. He loved to spar with his brothers and sister verbally, but they all knew he loved them and had their backs one hundred percent.
“Don’t mention it. I’m happy to impart my wisdom anytime.”
Keith snorted as Jagger said, “Who is that?”
A car parked crookedly outside Mickie’s house drew their attention. “Keith strained to make out the vehicle. “Does it look like it hit her mailbox?”
“Yeah, hope the driver’s okay—oh, fuck me.”
“What?” Keith canted the steering wheel to shine his headlights toward Mickie’s house. There on her snowy lawn stood, or rather swayed, their drunk-off-his-ass father. “Goddammit,” he bit out as he hit the gas. They shot down the street and screeched to a stop when he slammed the brakes in front of their house.
Keith shoved his door open.
“Keith, buddy,” Jagger called, but Keith was already charging out of the truck. “Keep your head. He’s not worth a night in jail.”
When Keith didn’t respond or alter his course, Jagger cursed, and Keith heard his door slam. The sound of his brother’s footsteps pounding the pavement as he chased him faded into the rush of blood in his ears. He kept his gaze fixed on the man who’d caused so much pain and suffering throughout their lives. Now the old man was harassing his woman?
Fuck. No.
Keith grabbed his father from behind, spun him, and slammed him against the car.
Someone shouted for him to back off, but he ignored them. “I warned you to stay away from her,” he snarled in his father’s face.
Glassy eyes and a smirk met his ire. “Just want to talk to the bitch. See what all the fuss is about.”
The rumble that erupted from Keith’s chest resembled that of a junkyard dog, ravenous, violent, and eager for blood.
Just as he cocked his fist, ready for the satisfaction of ramming it in his father’s face, a hand landed on his shoulder. “Not worth it, brother.” Jagger’s steady voice spoke at his ear.
“Jagger, my boy,” their father slurred.
“Shut the fuck up, old man,” Jagger spat out. “Just because I’m holding him back doesn’t mean I wouldn’t love to see him tear you apart.” He lowered his voice. “Too much of an audience, Keith.”