He stared at me and while he did his eyes got bright again.

Then he whispered, “Frosting all the way through.”

I smiled and whispered back, “Nope, you eventually get moist, rich cake. Even so, that layer of frosting is more like a mountainous swirl.”

“A mountainous swirl?”

“Yeah, lavender. Or sometimes pink. Occasionally baby blue or mint green or anything else I can dream up. But always with candy confetti and edible fairy dust.”

His face cracked right before he burst out laughing.

And when he did, Brock came through the front door.

We both looked to him as he examined the occupants of the sectional, shrugged off his leather jacket and threw it on the back of the couch.

“Something funny?” he asked, moving around the couch making a bee-line to me.

And as he moved toward me, I thought of Cob’s words.

Makes him feel however Slim feels that makes him get close to you anytime you’re even a little near, like any moment a lion’s gonna come roarin’ into the room and he’s gotta be close enough to come between you and it so he can keep you safe.

This life-altering thought was interrupted by Cob speaking.

“Tess here’s a mountainous swirl of frosting with candy sprinkles and fairy dust,” Cob told his son as Brock folded his long body next to mine on the couch, curled an arm around my shoulders, tucked me close and rested his boots on the coffee table.

“Come again?” he asked and I giggled.

“Nuthin’, Slim, you had to be there,” Cob muttered and I tipped my head back to look at Brock.

“You want a beer?”

“You, or me, gettin’ me a beer requires you, or me, gettin’ up and walkin’ across the room and it’s f**kin’ cold outside, my truck’s heat went out on the way home and you’re warm so the answer to that question is… no.”

“All right,” I mumbled at the same time I leaned forward, put my tea mug on a coaster by his boot then went back and curled closer, sliding my arm around his middle and finding that he was, indeed, cold so I gave him a squeeze.

Then I looked to Cob to see he’d watched me do this, his face was thoughtful then it turned guarded.

“Slim,” Cob started hesitantly, “I know you won’t thank me to point out the obvious but you got a little lady who bakes heavenly cakes and fries a mean beef cutlet and I’m not sure payback for that is makin’ her freeze her ass off anytime she’s in your truck.”

I felt Brock’s body get tight and it was at that moment I knew why Cob was hesitant and guarded and why he asked about where his son stood. Because his body getting tight told me Brock wanted his sons to know their Granddad, he wanted peace in his family, he didn’t like the idea of his father being sick or alone but he had by no means let him in.

“Dad –” he started in a warning tone.

Cob cut him off to say softly, “Get a new truck, Slim.”

Crackling electricity started invading the room and I got tense.

Cob felt it, he had to but he thought he was dying so his next words showed he felt he had nothing to lose.

“You need to deal with that woman,” he announced.

Brock’s body went solid. “We are not –” he started.

“No,” Cob interrupted again. “That bitch is… a… bitch. I heard her shoutin’ all the way

‘round the parkin’ lot. Tellin’ my boy to go f**k himself in front of my grandsons? ” He shook his head, clipped out, “No.” Then he sucked back beer.

“I’ll deal with it,” Brock growled.

“When, in a decade?” Cob shot back.

Uh-oh.

The voltage of the room ratcheted up to the red zone and Brock took his feet off the coffee table, leaning slightly forward, taking me with him, saying low, “Careful, Dad.”

“Look at me, son, feel what you’re feelin’ right now and look at me, the man who’s makin’ you feel it,” Cob invited, leaning toward Brock. “I spent my whole life puttin’ off tomorrow what I shoulda done today and you, ” he gestured with his bottle of beer, “felt the worst of it. Learn from me, do not make your sons feel what you’re feelin’ right now. I do not know what’s happening in that bitch’s house. What I do know is that seven years ago, I had two grandsons who felt just fine in their skin and now they look like they’re about ready any second to jump out of it. It’s either her or that man she married but it’s somethin’ and that somethin’ is not you. You’re done with that other job, you’re available, your life is steady and now you got no excuses.”

“I cannot believe you got the balls to sit on my couch and coach me on raisin’ my boys,”

Brock ground out.

To that, Cob sucked back a huge swallow of beer as he stood then he bent and slammed his bottle on the table and looked down at his son.

“No, what I got is not enough time to hope you do not f**k up like your old man and instead do right by your family.”

The air turned harsh, scratching at my skin and Cob’s eyes came to me.

“Nice dinner, Tess, beautiful cake. And honored you talked to me, sweetheart, swear that to my soul.” At these words Brock’s solid body grew rock-hard and Cob looked to him. “I’m okay with you bein’ pissed at me because I deserve it but, Slim, once you stop bein’ pissed you’ll see I’m not wrong. You don’t have to tell me, you just gotta get your shit sorted.” Then he jerked up his chin, started to the door and mumbled, “I’ll see myself out.”

Then he saw himself out.

I sat immobile and silent, still curled around an infuriated Brock and I stayed this way because I didn’t want to do anything to tip the edge on that fury.

I should have moved away.

“Honored you talked to him about what?”

I pulled away, removing my arm, tipped my head back and looked at him. “Sorry?”

“Honored you talked to him about what?”

“We, uh…” I started cautiously, too cautiously.

“Spit it out, Tess. What did you and Father of the Year talk about?”

Oh man.

Seriously, the Lucas family needed to work through these issues and soon.

“He was worried that I was like Olivia and showing you what you wanted to see but was something else underneath,” I said softly and Brock fell back against the couch.

He lifted both hands and rubbed his face but under them he bit out, “Jesus Christ.”