One

YOU FAINTED LIKE A

CHEESY ROMANCE HEROINE

ORSON WELLES ONCE SAID, “WE’RE BORN alone, we live alone, we die alone. Only through our love and friendships can we create the illusion that we’re not alone.” There were worse things in this world than being alone, in my opinion. Being abandoned by the one person who should have dedicated their life to watching out for me, topped it. Alone was peaceful. Alone was you against the world, not counting on anyone else to make you happy. When someone abandons you, you’re still alone, but instead of being at peace with it, you’re haunted by the silence, by the gaping nothingness where they should’ve been.

Coming face-to-face with my father for the first time in my life, it occurred to me—if he’d died—instead of walking away from me, it would have been easier to move forward than living with the knowledge that he didn’t love me. At least with death, there was a finality, a closure of sorts. He wasn’t coming back, so you said your goodbyes and tried to move on without them. With abandonment, there was still hope they might return. Then disappointment. Then outright rage.

Rage, I could deal with. Rage gave you purpose as you lay in bed at night wondering why.

Why didn’t he love me?

Why didn’t he care?

Standing in my mother’s living room, I stared blankly at my father and tried to see some part of myself in him, but I couldn’t. We were as opposite as night and day. I was dark-haired and broody; where he was blond and full of light, his smile like the sun shining brightly on me. So brightly, I didn’t want it leaking into my world and messing with my head. He didn’t belong in this broken-down old house full of heartache, loneliness, and pain because he was the cause. He’d walked out of my life before I was born and left me to my fate. And fate had been unkind.

How many nights had I cried myself to sleep, wishing he would knock on our door and engulf me in a hug; take me away from the bitter world my mother had ensconced us in. Away from the men she’d dragged home to forget my father. Men who were more monster than man. Just like I’d done all those years ago in the darkness of my room, the same question rushed to the forefront of my mind, like the wind swept through the Oklahoma plains. “Why did you abandon me?” I asked, bitterly. “What kind of man walks out on his kid?”

My father’s smile faded, and he flinched at my tone.

I could feel my throat closing with emotion, so I swallowed it down past the choking knot his sudden appearance in my life had caused. I would not allow him to see me cry. I’d made it twenty-four years without his presence in my life; I could survive the rest without his help.

“I had no choice. My life was . . . complicated.”

“Right,” I bit out, scanning him from head to toe. He was a handsome man; I’d give him that, with hair the color of wheat, threaded lightly with gray. And he looked familiar for some reason.

Had he been lurking in the shadows as I grew up?

A twinge of hope blossomed at the thought, but I squashed it like an overripe avocado. The fear and loneliness—accompanied by a deep-seated pain I’d carried because of his betrayal—grabbed hold again, and I let the bitterness sink its talons deeper into my heart. The rejection returned instantly. A feeling of worthlessness overpowered my emotions like always, and I straightened my shoulders, ready to do battle.

“You were always in my heart,” he mumbled, pressing a fist against his chest. “I just couldn’t be here physically.”

Rage blossomed anew. I will not let him get to me.

An internal click echoed inside my head, like the turning of a lock. It was the sound of my heart bolting shut against anything he threw at me. I would not allow him to derail the progress I’d made thanks to Cali and Sienna. They’d made me feel like I was worth something. Worth fighting for. Banding together as the Wallflowers, women who’d been scared to change their course in life and find love because of past pain, helped me begin to heal an integral part of me. Something that was broken and forgotten in the bitterness of my life, but no less important: my self-worth. But my father’s sudden presence threatened the slim hold I had on my scarcely healing soul. Wounds, which had seemed a distant memory with all the chaos that seemed to surround my two friends and me. Who had time to worry about a missing father when, in the course of two short weeks, we’d managed to battle murderers twice and escape imprisonment in a dark, dank hole? Yet, as scared as I’d been through all our trials and tribulations of late, murderers seemed like a piece of cake in the face of my father.

“Don’t,” I spat out. My bottom lip trembled, and I tried to hold it together until I could retreat to lick my wounds. “Just leave. Get the heck out of here and don’t come back.”

He crossed his arms, standing his ground as if he had every right to be here, then shook his head. “I’ve lost enough time with you.”

He’d lost enough time?

Anger bubbled up violently in my chest, ready to erupt. I wanted to grab one of my mother’s lamps and throw it across the room. Or better yet, as Alan Rickman had said in the movie Robin Hood, carve his cold black heart out with a spoon. He’d lost nothing. His right to lay claim to me vanished when he disappeared from my life.

“You lost the right to be in my life the minute you left and didn’t look back,” I shouted.

“That may be true, but I’m not leavin’ this time. Whether you want me in your life or not, you need me just as much as I need you in mine. I love you, Poppy. More than you know.”

Lies!

Someone reached inside my chest and squeezed my heart. The pain paralyzed me for a moment. “I don’t need anything from you! Not now. Not ever.” The words were spoken low as I tried to rein in the pain his lies cost me. How many times had I wished to hear those three words from him? How many sleepless nights had I dreamed of that declaration? “I needed you when I was five, learnin’ to ride a bike. I needed you when Jimmy Hunt broke my heart in the eighth grade. I needed you,” my voice broke, “when I graduated from SCAD and watched all my classmates with their mothers and fathers. I needed you for so many things growin’ up, Daddy Dearest, but I do not need you now. Take a good look at me, because it’s the last you’ll get. I don’t want you in my life. I don’t need you in my life. Just leave like you did twenty-four years ago and don’t look back!”

“I didn’t want to leave you,” he returned, his voice gruff, holding a hint of what sounded like pain. “I was protecting you.”

I stiffened. This was the best he could do? “Right. Your life was so out of control that leavin’ me behind for twenty-four years was your only option? Please don’t insult my intelligence.”

He gritted his teeth against my anger. “I walked away from you to keep you safe. But a day didn’t pass that I didn’t think about you.”

“Then explain what was so bad that walkin’ out on your kid was your only choice?”

“It’s complicated.”

More lies!

“It’s not complicated. You can’t tell me because it’s a lie. All of it,” I spat out, disgusted I was related to this man. “You promised Momma we’d be a family, then you got on your bike and rode off into the night like the snake you are.”

Something like shock passed across his face, then morphed into anger. His eyes shot to my mother who seemed to shrink in the face of it. My mother’s reaction confused me.

“Momma? Isn’t that what happened?”

My father’s face iced over, his eyes blank as he stared at her, and she took a step back from him.

“Isn’t that what happened?” I shouted at them both.

Before he could utter a word in response, the door behind me slammed open, and I swung around. Nate marched in looking ready to do battle—followed by Cali and Sienna—growling, “What the fuck is goin’ on?”

My heart skipped a beat, and my anxiety peaked. Even in the face of a father I’d never met, Nate’s presence took my breath away. He exuded power—his dark eyes promising he could take on anything that came at him and win—and I wanted more than anything to burrow myself in his arms and have him block out the pain. But I held myself back. The need to be close to Nate was slowly becoming an addiction. Like any drug of choice, I knew it would end badly if I allowed myself to succumb to the attraction that seemed to crackle like fire whenever he was near. It was tangible and suffocating, the need to be close to him all-encompassing. And it would never work between us because of my demons. Heck, it would never work with any man because of my insecurities. I’d been lying to myself, and to the Wallflowers when I said I would try being open to love. It was pointless. No man could purge the dragon who stalked my dreams. Silence the voices in the dark. I tried once with Blake, my ex-boyfriend, and I’d sent him running into the arms of another woman.

Nate’s dark, hickory-colored eyes landed on mine then he scanned my body from head to toe.

“What are you doin’ here?” I didn’t want him or the Wallflowers to see me break down. I couldn’t handle the humiliation of being weak.

“Better question is, who the fuck is he?” Nate growled.

My father’s eyes went on alert at his tone, and he dropped his hands to his side, his stance on guard as if he were waiting for Nate to strike. He looked to be in good shape for a man in his early fifties, but he was no match for the mountain of a man at my side, so I quickly introduced him.

“This is my father,” I rushed out. “Wallflowers, Nate, meet David Tyler, the bastard who knocked up my mother and then disappeared from my life.”

Cali gasped at my introduction, her eyes growing wider as she stared at my father, but Sienna flat-out froze, clearly shocked my long-lost father had shown up out of the blue.

Nate grew stock-still beside me, growling, “Fuck me,” between clenched teeth, his tone one of astonishment. He whipped out his phone in a rush and stepped closer to me, his heat burning a trail down my side. I watched him hit buttons on his phone, confused by his reaction, then turned back to look at the Wallflowers. Cali had grabbed ahold of Sienna’s hand like a lifeline, and both had turned ashen.

Something was wrong.

Sienna opened her mouth, then cleared her throat—tugging nervously at her hair before pushing it behind her ear—as I waited for her to explain her reaction. Instead of addressing me, however, she oddly said, “Knox? Is, is that your name?” on a shuddering breath.

I looked between them both, confused. Who is Knox? And why is Sienna acting so oddly?

“Yeah, baby girl.”

My eyes shot back to him in surprise. Baby girl?

Nate grabbed my hand at his answer and tugged me behind his back, rumbling in a strained voice at the phone, “Strawn, you need to get your ass over to Ms. Gentry’s house. STAT. Knox is here, and we’ve got a clusterfuck on our hands.”

What in the heck was going on?

I looked between the Wallflowers and Nate. Clearly, they knew something I didn’t. “What’s goin’ on?” I demanded.

Sienna looked at me like she’d never seen me before, tracing the lines of my face with her eyes, studying me like a biology experiment. Then she looked back at my father and asked, anxiously, “Are you Poppy’s father?”

What on earth? “Why are you askin’ if he’s my father? Did you drink too much green magic at lunch?”

Cali was staring at me with something akin to awe. I wanted to shout at the top of my lungs, “Someone tell me what’s going on,” so, I turned back to my father, ready to demand an explanation.

“Are you, are you my father?” Sienna whispered in a ragged breath, catching me off guard before I could interrogate him. I whipped around at her question with a gasp, wondering if she’d finally lost her ever-loving mind. I knew she wanted to find her biological father, but this was getting ridiculous.

I looked back at Daddy Dearest, ready to jump in if he dared laugh at her question. Sienna may have been nuts, totally bonkers at this point, but she was my wacky friend, and no one but me was allowed to laugh at her.

Knox cleared his throat and smiled at her, but didn’t laugh, thank God. I waited for him to ask if she had him confused with someone else, but instead, he knocked my feet out from under me. With a straight face, and no indication he thought she was crazy, bonkers, nuts, my father answered, “Yeah, baby girl,” once again.

The world, as I knew it, halted with those three words and my head began to spin wildly. Then my heart skidded to a full-stop before starting again as I gaped unbelievingly at Sienna. She gazed back at me, and I noted tears were pebbling in her eyes. She reached out to me while my world tilted on its axis, whispering, “Poppy,” in amazement.

A million questions ran simultaneously through my head, overloading my system—causing adrenaline to dump on cue—like it always did when I was stressed. But it was worse this time. I didn’t think I could handle one more thing or I’d short-circuit, then everyone would know I’m weak. That panic and anxiety owned me like a pimp owned a hooker.

I shook my head, stepping back from her outstretched hand, looking to my father, of all people, for help. The hair on my arms began to rise and my vision blurred as I took him in. He smiled at me and nodded, confirming I hadn’t misheard. He meant it. He. Meant. It.

Sienna was my sister?

I tried to pull air into my lungs while I looked between them, still waiting for the punch line that never came. I vaguely heard my mother shout at my father as I scanned their faces, their noses, their smiles. My God, it was right in front of me. Sienna looked just like him.

I shook my head to clear it, unable to assimilate the information fast enough for my brain to stop dumping adrenaline. Huffing and puffing like a racehorse, I tried to draw in air, but my lungs wouldn’t fill fast enough. I needed to leave so I could think. So I could run or do jumping jacks to burn off the adrenaline. So I could breathe.

Warmth hit my back, enveloping me in a comforting blanket. I knew it was Nate crowding me, so I leaned into him for support, ignoring my vow to keep my distance from him, because at the moment, I needed him more than I needed air in my lungs. He whispered something I couldn’t make out over the ringing in my ears. Shaking my head in panic, I felt his voice vibrating his chest, so I strained to hear him. “Say the word, and we’re out of here,” his husky voice whispered in my ear.

Word! Word! Word! I screamed in my head, but my vision blurred further as the truth burrowed deeper into my mind with a thundering impact. Reaching out to steady myself, I grabbed Nate’s steel-like arm and hung on, trying to ground myself in reality. I opened my mouth to say, “Get me out of here,” so I could breathe, but no sound came out. Then the room tilted and spun sideways, the voices around me sounding far away. I hadn’t had a panic attack like this one in ages. I was going to pass out, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

The last thing I remember, before my legs gave way beneath me, was Nate’s smooth as whiskey voice ordering me softly to, “Breathe, baby. Just breathe.”

Then the lights went out.

_______________

“Don’t come a step closer,” a peeved-off man ordered. “You’ve made your bed, now you can fuckin’ lie in it until she says otherwise.”

Positive I was dreaming, I tried to wake up. My lids fluttered for a moment, then opened slowly. Angry eyes the color of black coffee, rimmed with long lashes and a furious scowl, narrowed on my face. Huh, I was dreaming of Nate again.

“You’re like a terrified kitten with her fur up, spittin’ and hissin’ to keep the world at bay. Do me a favor and breathe for fuck’s sake.”

He seemed furious with me, so I nodded and buried my face in the crook of his neck, taking a deep, satisfying breath. “You always smell so good.”

Dream Nate smelled as heavenly as real Nate. Musk laced with sweat, and just a hint of beer thrown into the mix. It was the best scent I’d ever encountered.

“Poppy,” Dream Nate mumbled, so I drew back and looked at him. His expressive eyes seemed to be smiling at me, the crinkles at the side gave the impression of laughing.

“Your eyes are just this side of black,” I told him. “Are you part Italian?”

He seemed exasperated by my question, but he answered, “No.”

“Asian?”

“No.”

“African American?”

His lips twitched. “No. Native American.”

I could totally see that in his skin tone and strong brow. “Is that why you wear your hair longer? Because of your heritage? Or is it just to attract women, like I thought?”

He rolled his lips between his teeth but didn’t answer. Dream Nate was as closemouthed as real Nate.

“Is she awake?” Sienna’s anxious voice called out, and I froze, dread swirling through my veins. Then my world tilted again, and the past half hour came rushing back.

I tried to push out of Nate’s arms, but they wouldn’t budge. “What happened?” I asked to distract Nate, trying to remember what I’d said to him in the midst of my freak-out, hopeful I hadn’t declared my undying love to the man. But, with the way my day had been going thus far, all bets were off.

“You fainted like a cheesy romance heroine, that’s what happened,” Cali murmured, her face stretched tight with concern.

“Wallflowers don’t faint, have the vapors, or otherwise swoon,” I defended, still trying to break free of Nate’s embrace. “I just lost my footin’ is all.”

The odds of them believing that were nil, but never surrender—never give in, I always say. If you can’t fool them with humor, give sarcasm a try.

Sienna and Cali looked at each other but didn’t smile at my wit. Right. Time to change the subject and get as far away from Nate as humanly possible. The moon maybe?

“Can you stand?” Nate finally grumbled to my relief, loosening his grip. I avoided his eyes and nodded, then rose slowly from the floor with his help, taking a step away from him to hide my attraction.

“I’ll get you a glass of water,” Cali offered, but I shook my head. I needed answers, then a dark hole I could climb in to lick my wounds.

“I’m fine,” I managed to say, then glanced at Sienna and studied her for a moment. I didn’t know what I felt, other than confused. I was born in California and Momma moved here to start over after being dumped by my father. Sienna was born here, and she was older than me by more than a year, so how the heck could we be sisters? “I think somebody needs to explain how Sienna and I are half sisters.”

She and I both turned to our “father” and waited.

He looked between us and sighed. “Three months before I met your mother, Poppy, I was in Las Vegas on vacation. Suzanne Miller was there, as well. I didn’t know she was married. She never spoke about anything in her life except that she was from Savannah,” he began. “She painted a descriptive picture of a small city full of life and history. One where family and friends looked out for each other in good times and in bad. Having grown up in Los Angeles where millions of people surround you, yet you never really know anyone, her stories intrigued me. When I knew I’d have to hide you to keep you safe, Poppy, I sent you both here because I wanted something different for you than a nameless existence. I didn’t know about Sienna until a year ago. I was in town and followed you. You had lunch with Sienna and her mother. I recognized Suzanne immediately. When I realized Sienna was her daughter, it only took a single look to put two and two together. I followed Suzanne home, confronted her, and she admitted I was your father, Sienna.”

You could have heard a pin drop when he was done.

“She told me my father was a gym manager,” Sienna finally said, her voice full of accusation. “I’ve been to every fitness club in town, tryin’ to find one that was open when I was born.”

My father looked sheepish at her reply. “We met in the hotel’s gym.”

Sienna rolled her eyes. “Gym manager,” she mumbled. “Nice, Momma.”

Now it was my turn for questions. Ones that needed answering this minute. “So, you settled Momma and me in Savannah to be closer to Suzanne Miller, and then you abandoned me?”

My father shook his head. “I moved you here to keep you safe, in a small city with culture and history where you wouldn’t be just another number among millions. Where you could put down roots in a community that is close-knit.”

“Right. I forgot. You moved me here because I was in danger?”

He nodded once.

“You were in danger?” Cali gasped.

“That’s his excuse for leavin’ me behind. Don’t believe a word of it,” I muttered to her.

“It’s the truth,” my father defended, “and I didn’t abandon you. I kept a close eye on you from a distance.”

Not close enough.

The same old bitterness sank in. “Just how many times—over the years—were you in town, yet didn’t bother to knock on our door?” My question came out in a sneer. Even I could hear the hate.

“Poppy,” Sienna whispered, “I understand your anger, but please keep an open mind. Maybe he’s tellin’ the truth.”

Was she insane?

“Keep an open mind? He dumped Momma and me in Savannah so that he could be closer to your mother, not for my protection.” I shot my father a scathing look. “I guess what happens in Vegas doesn’t stay in Vegas.”

Nate’s hand landed on my shoulder and he squeezed to get my attention. “Retract your claws, Kitten. Sienna isn’t the enemy.” Her eyes darted to mine. I could see the hurt my words had caused, so I mouthed sorry then bit my lip to keep quiet. She smiled slightly, letting me know I was forgiven.

“So why did you leave Poppy if you truly cared?” Sienna asked, but her voice held no anger. It was evident she had no contempt for the man we called father, and that unnerved me more than it should. He was her father too, she had every right to hate him as much as I did, but a tiny bit of jealousy seeped inside my heart at how well she was handling this. Him. Us.

“It’s complicated,” our father replied.

She looked at me with trepidation, then turned back to him. “Was Poppy in danger because you’re a criminal?”

He didn’t have a chance to answer because Bo Strawn—Sienna’s hunky man who was also a Savannah homicide detective—did as he marched through the door followed by Devin Hawthorne, Cali’s devilish man and former homicide detective turned private dick.

“He’s not a criminal, he’s ATF,” Bo growled, wrapping Sienna in his arms. “He was undercover when he met and married your mother, Poppy, the daughter of a Devils MC member who was under investigation for drug traffickin’.”

“Don’t,” my father growled. I stared openmouthed back at him. He was a Federal agent? Then it hit me what Bo had said about my mother.

“Jax Teller is your father?” I cried out, my whole attention switching to my mother.

“Jax Teller is a fictional character,” Cali mumbled under her breath.

“It’s a metaphor,” I kind of snipped back.

“A metaphor is a comparison. Usin’ the name Jax Teller to describe your grandfather is more of a reference of the man your grandfather might be.”

I turned, looked at her, and rose a brow. Seriously? “Thank you, Miss Thesaurus.”

She bit her lip and looked away, but I didn’t miss the smirk Devin gave her when she mumbled, “Thesauruses are for synonyms, Ms. Webster would make more sense.”

Leave it to an editor to clarify things. I would have laughed at her ridiculousness if I wasn’t an emotional mess.

“So your father was what? Some one-percenter or somethin’? Did dear old Dad bust him and now you’re on the run?”

My father looked at my mother. She shook her head at him rapidly, and what little semblance of control I had started to crack. Whatever they were keeping from me was bad.

“You need to tell her, or I will,” Bo advised, glancing back at me with an expression that made my blood run cold. “She deserves to know.”

“Tell me what?” I whispered. “What are you hidin’?”

The room lay quiet as I waited. No one breathed, no one moved. Bo glared at my father, and my father glared back.

“I’m not your mother, I’m your aunt,” a ragged voice finally called out. “My father killed your mother when you were three months old. He vowed to kill you and your father for turnin’ my sister against him, so I agreed to hide with you here in Savannah.”

And my world tilted off its axis once again.

“That’s a lie,” I whispered hoarsely, the air punching from my lungs as if I’d been struck. She started to open her mouth, but I repeated on a shout, “That’s an ugly, filthy lie!” shutting her up. I swung around and looked at my father, praying he’d tell me she was lying. But his head was bowed, both hands wrapped around his neck.

Was anything about my life real?

Shock surged through my body like a lightning bolt, and I began to shake. I was suddenly cold. Emotionless. I felt nothing. I was mentally exhausted from a lifetime of betrayal. There was no sadness. No anger. Nothing. I was spent and on life support.

On autopilot, I turned my head and looked at my mother. My aunt? She took a step toward me, and I shook my head, holding up both hands. The only person who’d been a constant fixture in my life was an imposter. A liar. It explained so much and so little at the same time, knowing she was my aunt and not my mother.

“I think . . . I think that’s enough sharin’ for one day. You can finish the story another time,” I muttered, remotely disconnected.

Sienna and Cali approached me cautiously as if I would bolt, their actions guarded. The room felt wired to explode like a single spark would raise the roof, obliterating the room. I lifted my eyes to my friends and saw the same pain reflected at me in their eyes. I knew if they uttered a single word of pity or remorse my direction, I would be the match that set the room alight.

“Wallflowers don’t have breakdowns,” I explained, my tone vacant, praying they would understand I needed their strength before I sank so deep in sorrow that I never resurfaced. “We just don’t.”

Sienna shook her head, understanding me as always. “No. We weather any storm and still look good doin’ it.”

That almost made me smile. We were Wallflowers who didn’t know a thing about fashion. We preferred jeans and T-shirts to haute couture.

I looked at Cali, tears coating my lashes until I couldn’t see. I was going to lose it soon if they didn’t help me. I needed a lifeline to hold onto before I fell off the edge of sanity into a black pit of despair. “Is this the part where I save myself from my messed-up life?”

My father called out, making me jump. I stepped away from the anguish I heard in his voice. He was trying to move past Bo and Devin to get to me, but they stepped in front of him, blocking his way when I shook my head for him to stay back.

So many lies. So much pain and heartache, for what? I heard my mother—my aunt—crying softly in a corner, but I couldn’t care at that moment.

“Cali?” I choked out in desperation, needing her answer. She was our leader and knew how to fix every Wallflower problem. “How exactly do I save myself this time?”

“You don’t,” a deep voice murmured in my ear. The hand I’d unconsciously grabbed hold of in panic let go, and then my feet left the ground as Nate lifted me up. Then we were moving toward the front door in a haze of anguish. “It’s time someone saved you for a change,” Nate growled, and I buried my head in his neck.

_______________

With each revelation about her father’s past, Nate watched Poppy react like she’d been struck. And with each hit, he stepped closer to her, ready to step in when the pain became too much. He didn’t know when it started, the deep-seated need to protect Poppy at all costs, but he couldn’t ignore it any longer. Couldn’t stand at a distance and disregard the overwhelming need to save her. Not when she reached out blindly for his hand and squeezed his fingers as if he were the only one who could take away the pain. With that one touch, she’d shattered some of the walls he’d erected to keep her at bay and reached inside his soul, carving a place inside his heart.

He was done then. Done watching the catastrophe that slowly robbed her light, so he bent at the waist and picked her up, determined to leave the fucking chaos behind and shelter her from the brewing storm. He could barely wrap his mind around the shit swirling around her, how could she expect to come to terms with any of it?

He expected Poppy to struggle when he’d removed her from the room. But she turned blank eyes toward him as he lifted her into his arms, and that made his stomach clench and drop with rage. Since the moment he’d met her, she’d had her hackles up, spitting and clawing at anyone or anything that threatened her or her friends. But now she was despondent and silent.

“I don’t want my daughter leaving with that man,” Knox bit out. “He’s dangerous.”

Nate tightened his hold on Poppy at Knox’s incrimination, one he was used to after coming from the ghettos of Savannah. He had a temper after being bullied and abused by his father, which meant he had a rap sheet. One that said Nate put his father in the hospital at the age of sixteen after he attacked his mother.

“I know who and what I am,” Nate returned without inflection, his face blank. He wouldn’t let Knox stop him from doing what needed to be done. Poppy’s state of mind was more important than his dark past. He could keep a handle on his anger until the look of utter pain and disillusionment was stripped from her face.

At Knox’s words, the blank stare in Poppy’s eyes sparked to life. The kitten living inside her clawed to the surface, and she struggled until Nate lowered her to the floor. “I know more about him than I know about you,” she fired back in outrage. “I know he has his friends’ back without question. I know he would put his life on hold to help a stranger because he’s loyal to those who are loyal to him. He’s a man with principles, no matter what his past says about him . . . It’s more than I know about you, Dad.”

Christ, she’d defended him. Spit hellfire at her father after she’d stood broken, dying a little inside from all the lies surrounding her past, yet she’d found her metal to defend Nate without question. Warmth burned through his veins where only ice had lived before, chipping away a section of his wall. Nate’s past fed anger that lived just under his skin, fed a burning in his gut which never ceased. But the burn eased to a dull ache at Poppy’s defense of him, making it easier to breathe.

Curling his arm across the front of her shoulders, Nate pulled her into his body to keep her calm. She reached up without thought and curled her fingers around his arm, leaning into him as if he were her source of strength.

His heart thundered in his ears, drowning out damn near everything but Poppy’s voice. “Let’s go, baby. I’m takin’ you out of here,” he ordered softly in her ear. He wanted her away from her father, away from the pain before it took its toll.

It was clear Knox wouldn’t give up without a fight, wouldn’t put his daughter first, even now, because he continued to push her without regard for her emotional state.

“All you need to know about me is I’ve loved you since the day you were born,” he gritted out. “That walking away from you was the only way to keep you safe while I found a way to put that bastard behind bars.”

Poppy’s spine stiffened against Nate, and she began to shake. He drew her deeper into his body, whispering, “Come with me, Kitten. Now’s not the time for this.” But she wouldn’t budge when he tried to walk her backward.

“I grew up scared of the dark. Did you know that?” Poppy’s voice wobbled with emotion, and it tore away another chunk in his armor. Her father had apparently struck a nerve that ran as deep as the Grand Canyon. The Poppy he held tightly in his arms at that moment was the small child she’d once been, one who’d wanted nothing but her father’s love. “Scared I wasn’t worth lovin’ because the one man who should have taught me what love is, walked away. You didn’t protect me, Mr. Taylor, you destroyed me, bit by bit, each day you stayed away. I needed you present and accounted for, not off on some vendetta! I needed a father. My father. I needed you to slay the dragon who chased me in the dark, but your vengeance was more important than nurturing the only thing you had left of my mother.”

Knox’s head jerked back as if he’d been struck. Nate took satisfaction in seeing it and brushed a kiss against Poppy’s temple, proud of her strength.

Still clinging to Nate’s arm, Poppy turned and looked at her aunt. “Momma?” Shirley took a hesitant step forward, wringing her hands as she waited for Poppy to speak. “There was always a distance between us when I was growin’ up. I understand it now. But you were there for me if I really needed you. Please give me a few days, then I want to hear all about the woman who gave birth to me.”

Her aunt nodded, wiping at her eyes, then she glanced at Knox before saying, “I loved you your whole life, even if I couldn’t show it as well as I should have.”

Poppy nodded rapidly, swallowing hard before looking away. “I need to get out of here,” she whispered, turning her head so Nate could hear.

“I’ll take you.” He squeezed once for support before letting her go. She stepped out of his arms, and he immediately missed the feel of her warm, soft curves pressed against his. He had to stop himself from reaching out and curling his arm around her shoulders until he could drag her back to his side.

Poppy shook her head and turned to him. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m okay.”

His jaw locked in place at the cold distance in her expression. Her light had extinguished again, and that tore through him like a jagged knife. A battle began to brew inside him. He wanted to protect her from the world and be the one who restored the light in her eyes. But how? He was dangerous. A short fuse waiting to ignite.

Nate closed his eyes briefly until the raging war stabilized. Dead calm settled into his bones, replacing the indecision that had plagued him for two weeks.

Poppy was more important than his reservations.

Than his own deep-seated fears.

Sienna stepped past him and headed toward Poppy as she made her way outside, Calla bringing up the rear. He observed silently as the two sisters stared at each other, then smiled sadly and hugged. Calla stood to the side, waiting until they pulled apart, then they reached out and engulfed her in a Wallflower sandwich.

It was then all three of them began to cry.

He felt Devin at his side taking in the sight. “Fire and ice,” Nate stated to his friend. Devin turned his head and raised a brow. Nate jerked his head at the group of sobbing Wallflowers. “They burn brighter than most women, but when they freeze you out, it’s like fuckin’ Antarctica. It grips you in the heart and takes your breath away. Makes you want to destroy anyone or anything that takes that fire out of their eyes.”

Visions of the outbuilding he’d torn apart with his bare hands popped into his head. He’d wanted to destroy everything that stood in the way of finding Poppy. Nate realized that was the difference between him and his father. His father’s moods were like a pendulum, swinging back and forth between rage and elation at the drop of a hat. When he was up, he was so far up Nate could almost envision he was a good man. But when he was down, those around him paid. Nate was like his father, yet, at the same time, he wasn’t. He was possessive like his old man, but his need to protect—at all costs—what was his overrode all other emotions. And that’s what made him different. He’d suspected he was fundamentally different than his father, but he hadn’t wanted to test it. Not for anyone. Not until he’d met Poppy and she’d wagged her damn finger in his face, waking him up from a deep, dark sleep.

“You gonna slay her dragons?” Devin asked low. “Because I’ll repeat it if I need to. You are not your old man.”

Nate watched Poppy a moment longer, saw the defeat and wariness in her eyes. He still wanted to destroy everyone and everything that attempted to harm her. But instead of an uncontrollable need to do just that, he felt a controlled sense of peace that he’d get to slay the dragons that haunted her in the dark and put the light back in her eyes.

“Every. Fuckin’. One,” Nate vowed.

Devin turned to him and shook his head. “About fuckin’ time you saw things my way.”

Nate grunted. “Wasn’t you who convinced me. It was Poppy.”

Devin jerked his chin up with understanding. “Paralyzes you, doesn’t it?”

“What does?” Strawn asked, walking up alongside Nate.

“The simple thought of not havin’ her in your life. Of not being able to protect her before someone or something takes her away,” Devin stated, looking at Calla. “The possessive rage you feel when another man looks at what belongs to you.”

Strawn nodded in agreement. “I’d never felt true fear ‘til Sienna came along. She gives me a fuckin’ headache most days, but God help the man who tries to take away what’s mine.”

Nate looked at both men, smiling before stepping through the door. “Jesus. Fuckin’ headaches, possessive rages, and Wallflowers to boot?”

Strawn raised a brow in question. “You finally wake up?”

Nate looked over his shoulder at the three Wallflowers. “Wide-fuckin’-awake,” he answered, then headed straight for his woman. Any reservations he still held, about being his father’s son, paled in comparison to his need to heal what Poppy’s father had broken. And he’d do just that by giving her a healthy dose of what she needed most.

A man she could trust.