Grace looked up as Matt swung into the back of the ambulance. He hugged her first, then pulled back to look at her. “Geez, Gracie. Can’t stay out of the spotlight for one minute, can you?”
“What can I tell you?”
Matt hugged her tight a second time.
“Is Dad here yet?” she asked next to his ear.
“No, they were five minutes behind me.”
“Okay, help me out of here. I don’t want them freaking out.”
Matt glared.
She pushed him. “Move your butt.”
“Just go to the ER.”
“Where they just took the guys who did all this? I really don’t want to have to bail any of the men in my life out of jail for vigilantism.”
Matt blinked . . . twice. “Good point.”
“Thank you, now help me down.”
Matt made it three steps as she attempted to walk before he gave up and picked her up.
“What the . . .”
“Shut up, Gracie.”
Dameon saw them coming and walked toward them. “You need to go to the hospital.”
“No, I don’t. I need to ice, elevate, and compress . . . and a couple shots of whiskey.”
“She’s stubborn.” Matt nodded toward the house. “Can we go inside?”
“They are swarming in there.”
“Prop me up in the garage,” Grace told him. “Before Dad gets here.”
And on that request, Dameon retrieved a couple of dining chairs that survived the brawl and set them inside the garage so she could elevate her ankle.
Slowly her family started to arrive.
Parker and Colin gushed and hugged and told her she looked like hell.
Erin held her hand and clung to Matt.
But it was when her dad showed up that everything got real.
“Where’s my baby girl?” she heard before seeing him.
The crowd that surrounded her separated.
Dameon stood beside her, holding her hand.
Her dad marched in a way dads do, straight to her side.
He knelt down, knees popping as he did. There were unshed tears in her father’s eyes. Seeing them broke Grace’s armor.
Her dad didn’t cry.
It just wasn’t in him.
He pulled her in so tight she had a hard time breathing. “I’m okay, Daddy.”
“I’m gonna kill him.”
“No, you’re not.”
He hugged harder.
“Oh, baby.”
She gave her dad as much time as he needed. Her eyes looked up to Dameon.
“Dameon stopped him, Daddy. I swear I’m okay. Just a few bruises.”
Her dad pulled away and looked up.
She knew he noticed what everyone else did. Dameon had a pretty decent bruise on his lip. His knuckles were caked with drying blood, and his clothes looked like he’d been in a barroom brawl. Which he had been . . . minus the liquor.
Max stood across the garage, looking just as banged up.
Emmitt pointed at Dameon. “You and I will talk later.”
Grace tried not to smile at the fierceness in her dad’s voice.
“Anytime, sir.”
He seemed to like the title and stood tall. “Who is the lead on this?” he asked as he walked toward the uniformed police officers standing in the front yard.
Grace turned to hug her mother, who had a much gentler touch. “You okay?”
“My ankle is killing me,” she admitted. “I’ll have Dameon take me to the urgent care. We can’t have dad in the ER with the guys who did this.”
Nora nodded several times. “Oh, no . . . we can’t have that.”
“Thanks.”
Her mom reached out a hand and touched her face. “Did you aim for the balls?”
More than one person listening laughed.
“Neither one of them is going to want to pee for a while,” Grace happily reported.
Nora winked. “That’s my girl.”
Her mom stood and reached out and touched Dameon’s arm. “Thank you.”
Grace’s ankle was sprained, not broken.
Dameon left her in her parents’ living room with all the women doting on her. Between the painkillers the clinic doctor gave her and the wine she wasn’t supposed to be mixing them with, she was fairly relaxed.
The same couldn’t be said for the men in the house.
Dameon, Colin, Matt, and Emmitt were all in the Hudson garage where someone had unearthed a punching bag and hung it from a rafter.
Colin, Matt, and Emmitt all took turns punching the thing.
Dameon looked at the state of his fists and sat out on this display of testosterone.
Matt hit the bag hard. “I’m starting to understand why men used to lock their women away in ivory towers.”
“There’s no way Parker would stand for that,” Colin said.
“Grace would burn the room around her to escape,” Dameon added.
“It’s our job to teach them how to defend themselves. You need to remember that.” Emmitt pointed to Matt.