Hot 4 (Multiple Love)

"It could be my sister." As I rest my head on his chest, my heart rate and breathing slow. His scent will always be associated with safety, and when Karter comes closer, too, I'm enveloped in a place of total security.

"I don't think so, but whatever. We'll deal with this as we deal with everything else. We're here for whatever you need."

I gaze up at my handsome twins, faces marked with matching furrowed brows. "It was going to happen at some point. Maybe it's better this way."

It takes me five minutes to shower and five to dress and put on some makeup. I need my warpaint to face the impending battle. While I'm doing that, Karter and Kane clean up in the house. Impressions are important to them too.

They don't message Holden and Harris, so when they arrive back from their shift, Karter pulls them aside to fill them in. They seem too beat after work, but they head upstairs to freshen up and return dressed in jeans and smart shirts to meet my raging father.

I hug them tightly because I already feel guilty, and nothing has happened yet.

"It's going to be okay," Holden says. He sounds certain, and I suppose he thinks they've faced their own father and stood strong, so this won't be any different. But it will be.

This is my dad. They can't speak to him with the same familiarity as their own father. It's going to be up to me to deal with this, and I've never stood up to him before.

Can I do it this time?

We all slump onto the couches in the den and flick on the TV for something to break the weird atmosphere of apprehension. I keep my expression even and fold my hands so that I don't fiddle nervously or bite my fingernails. I don't want my boys to know how nervous I am.

After a while, Karter prepares some sandwiches, which we eat quickly and wash down with some coffee.

Even though they choose a good movie for us to watch, my mind keeps drifting, rerunning all the times in the past when Dad has shouted at me about my choices. When I was little, I'd cry, and my mom would come to my room and tell me that he didn't mean it. That he just didn't know how to hold his temper. That he felt scared when he wasn't in control. I didn't like the idea of my dad being scared, so I swallowed it all. I know my mom was trying to repair our relationship, but all she did was teach me that in relationships, you should accept verbal abuse if the person has a reason.

The trouble is that anyone can all come up with a reason for being an asshole to another human being. It's just that most of us aren't assholes and don't think about using our trauma as an excuse for unacceptable behavior.

When there is eventually a thump on the front door, I jump so visibly that it draws the attention of all my boys.

Karter's hand seizes mine. "You're not facing this alone, Connie. Okay?"

Even though I know it, it doesn't make the prospect of opening that door any easier.

The door thumps again, and I know it's my dad. He has no patience, and I can hear his anger from the way the door rattles in the frame.

Holden is the first to the entranceway, his shoulders bunched and high as he yanks open the door.

"Where's Connie?" my dad's voice booms, and he somehow manages to stride past Holden, whose huge body was almost blocking the door. Dad is wiry and much shorter than my boys, and when he finds himself in the room surrounded by four men built like muscle mountains, his face seems to fall.

When he sees me, standing with the sofa between us as a buffer, his eyes spark again.

"There you are. I can't believe that you made me drive all this way to see this with my own eyes." He whips his arm around, like everything that is around him is disgusting.

The boys stand stony-faced, Karter and Kane taking a small step closer to me. It's like having bodyguards, but this isn't going to be a physical battle. This is all verbal and emotional. "I didn't make you drive anywhere," I say slowly. "I've deliberately not involved you in my life because nothing I ever do meets with your approval."

"So you go from that to this...how can you think this is okay? You're living here with four men. FOUR!"

Holden puts his hand out. "Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to keep your voice down. If you want to talk to your daughter, you need to do it respectfully."

Dad's mouth shrinks into a puckered hole. "Does a woman who lives with four men deserve respect? I think most of the people in this town would disagree?"