Rachel's hand squeezed my knee under the table in silent warning. But I couldn't help but wish she'd keep her hand there. It felt nice. Even under the circumstances.

“Maybe he's just shy.” I knew Rachel was trying to placate the situation. Her fingers squeezed into my skin, obviously trying to communicate the message that I should shut the hell up and let her handle it. I wanted to do whatever Rachel asked of me if it meant keeping her hand on my leg. Too bad I was always bad at listening.

The problem was Mags and I were too much alike. Most of the time, it was a source of mutual respect and camaraderie. Right now, it meant we were about to have an explosion.

“Or a whack job. He has that whole school shooter thing going on, you know?” I said trying not to flinch as Rachel pinched the side of my knee with her fingers. So much for biting my tongue. Now I would have both of the girls pissed at me.

To say Maggie got kind of mad would be like me saying that hell is kind of hot. She went off. Really. She let me have it. And I couldn't do much more than stare at her in shock. Maggie never lost her shit with me. Even when I deserved it. Sure, she could be cutting and to the point. It's what I loved about her. But she had never gone full on postal before.

And it made me angry. Like, really, really angry. Because this was happening now over some guy who wasn't worth the gunk on the bottom of her shoe. My protective instincts were going into overdrive and I wanted to go smack the shit out of the punk for getting my friend wound up like that.

No one messed with my girls.

Ever.

But Rachel instantly jumped into her role as mediator. She succeeded in calming Maggie down. But only enough so she could go track Clay “Unabomber” Reed down.

Rachel sat down heavily beside me after Maggie had left. “Sorry if I was out of line,” I mumbled, feeling a little crappy for my part in the drama. Rachel sighed, her shoulders sagging a bit.

I wanted to put my arm around her. Any other time I would have. Now I wasn't sure that was a smart thing to do. “Well, you need to tell Mags, not me,” she said succinctly. Rachel was right. I did owe Maggie an apology. I hated fighting with my girls. But it seemed like that was all that happened anymore.

Before going to find Maggie, I turned to Rachel, ignoring the stirring in my gut as I watched her tuck a curl behind her ear. “What do you think of that guy? Really,” I asked her.

Rachel met my eyes and I knew in that instant, that for whatever our issues, we were on the same page where Clayton Reed was concerned. “I don't know, Danny. But I've never seen Mags like this. It worries me. It's not like her to obsess over some boy. And to blow off cross-country? All she talks about is Clayton Reed. When have you ever known her to talk about a guy like this? I mean, I'd be happy for her if there wasn't something else going, you know? The way Clay acted today was really weird and then Maggie jumping all over us to defend his crappy attitude. I didn't like it. Not a bit,” Rachel let out in a rush.

Without allowing myself time to think any more about it, I reached out and took her hand. Our fingers weaved together effortlessly. Her palm, pressed against mine perfectly. “We'll take care of her. We always take care of each other. And no one will ever mess with my girls while I'm around,” I said with confidence. Because I f**king meant it.

Rachel smiled and my heart sputtered a bit. When did I become such a damn pansy? “I guess I'd better go find her. You know, so I can grovel.” I grinned, even though I was absolutely sure groveling was in my immediate future.

Rachel squeezed my hand before dropping it. I couldn't help but be disappointed. She threw her trash onto her tray and stood up. I followed her to my feet. “Yeah, you'd best use some of my lip gloss, because your mouth will be chaffed from all the butt kissing you're about to do.” Rachel smirked.

There was that feisty new Rachel again. Where the hell had she been hiding the last seventeen years? I watched the way Rachel's ass moved in her tight jeans and decided it was time to go get started on my butt kissing. Because if I stayed here any longer, watching the girl in front of me, I would be kissing something else entirely.

Chapter Six

~Daniel~

“Daniel. Stephen and I are going away for the weekend. I've left money on the counter.” My mom poked her head into my room and I had to curb the wise cracks that were on the tip of my tongue.

I was getting used to weekends alone. Not that I minded. I'd rather not be subjected to the PDA monster that came courtesy of my once upon a time fantastic mother and her skeevy boyfriend. It was freaking gross the way they pawed at each other, not caring if I was in the room or not.

As if on cue, Stephen appeared behind Mom, his hands slithering around her like an anaconda, his hands going in places that made me want to rip his arms off. I hated that guy. I hated my mom for being with that guy. I hated the fact that I had a front row seat as they touched and did things that a kid should NOT see his parent doing.

My mom giggled like a girl half her age and I wanted to hurl. “Stephen,” she whispered as he kissed the side of her neck. Both seemed suddenly aware that they were in fact standing in the doorway to my room. Stephen stopped trying to molest the woman who had given me life and she stopped wiggling against him as though they were going to go at it at any moment.

“Hi son,” Stephen said awkwardly, giving me a cheesy smile that just asked to be knocked off of his face by my more than ready fist. I wasn't his goddamned son. I had a dad. A great one. You know, the guy who had caught this jackass dick deep in his wife. Yep, I was going to throw up. Maybe I could projectile vomit, Exorcist style, all over the ass**les in front of me.