Craving Trix (The Aces' Sons 1)

I rolled my eyes at him and pushed him roughly out of the way so I could get my own coffee.

“You’re acting weird,” I accused, staring at my dad as he relaxed back against a kitchen chair.

“I’m taking a shower,” my mom announced, walking over to give me a kiss. “You guys need a couple minutes.”

“Nothin’ weird about it,” Pop said, watching me closely after my mom was gone.

“So, you’re okay with Cam living with me? Since when?”

He sighed and scratched the side of his head.

“Don’t like it, no.”

“Then what was all that?” I bitched, flinging my arm toward the front porch.

“Ya gonna give me time to speak before you fly off the handle?”

My mouth snapped shut, and I crossed my arms over my chest.

“You realize your ma is the only woman I’ve ever let speak to me like that—right?”

I nodded.

“Still stands.”

Point taken.

“You and Cameron—” he sighed again. Good grief, get to the point already. “I’ve never liked it.”

I tilted my head to the side, waiting for him to finish. I wasn’t going to get yelled at for interrupting.

“Fuckin’ weird the way he let you follow him around. I hated that shit. But hell, after the shit you and your mama went through—I couldn’t force you away from him. He wasn’t doin’ nothin’ wrong, and neither were you. He helped ya with your shyness, made ya more outgoing. And as he got older, he made sure there was enough distance between ya that no one ever got the wrong idea.”

I remembered that. Around the time Cam started high school, he stopped hanging out with me as much. It had hurt my feelings, until my mom sat me down and explained that Cam was working at the club more, so I had to stop whining about it. I hadn’t realized that he’d stayed away for a different reason altogether. Made sense, though.

“Sit,” my pop ordered as I shifted from one foot to the other.

As soon as I was seated, he leaned forward in his chair and braced his forearms on the table. “Do I like ya with him? Fuck, no. I don’t want ya with anyone, but that ain’t reasonable or normal. You’re a full grown woman.”

He reached out and pulled at my messy hair.

“If somethin’ happened to me—”

“Don’t say that,” I blurted. I never wanted to have that conversation. Ever.

He glared at me, shutting me up. “Somethin’ happened to me—that boy would protect you until the day he died. Doesn’t matter if you were with him or married to someone else. His loyalty to you is unquestionable—”

“He fucks anything that moves!” I argued, scowling.

“That ain’t the same and you know it. He could fuck half the country and it’d still be you he came home to.”

“You don’t care that he’d cheat on me?”

“Course I’d care—don’t want you hurt—but that ain’t my business.”

I scoffed in disbelief and leaned away. What a shitty thing to say.

“Stop poutin’ and fuckin’ listen for a minute. Jesus Christ, between you and your ma…”

“Fine.”

“Look at me, Little Warrior.” He waited until I met his eyes, then continued speaking. “Hulk is loyal to you. As much as I hate the thought of you with anyone, he would die for you. I might hate it that you’ve got a man, but I’ve gotta be thankful for that shit, too.”

“Oh good, you’re thankful,” I said derisively, ignoring the scowl that grew darker and darker on my pop’s face. “It’s fine with you that he’ll fuck around, just as long as he keeps me safe from some invisible boogeyman. Makes perfect fucking sense.”

“Goddammit, Bellatrix!” he yelled, slamming his hand down on the table. “You need to listen to what I’m sayin’.”

“Enough,” my mom ordered, coming into the kitchen with her hair still wrapped in a towel. “You need to get to the garage.”

“Talk to your daughter,” Pop snapped back, standing up. “She doesn’t listen to a fuckin’ word I say.”

“Oh, I heard plenty,” I mumbled, rolling my eyes.

“Are you fuckin’—”

“Out!” Mom ordered again, pushing at my pop until he moved toward the front door. “I’ll see you later. Love you.”

“Love you, too, baby,” my pop said, his eyes growing soft as he shrugged his cut on over a plain t-shirt.

They walked out to the porch and after a few minutes, my mom came back in alone. It was almost funny how little I looked like her. She was petite, pale and freckled with wild red hair that she kept long because my pop loved it. I was tan year-round, with thick black hair that had lost its curl as I got older and enough junk in my trunk for us to share.

“What was all that about?” she asked softly when she got a good look at my unhappy face.

“Cameron.”

“Ah.”

“Pop was acting weird this morning.”

“Yeah, well, lots of stuff happening at the club, I think,” she said, grabbing her mug from the counter so she could sit in Pop’s vacated chair.