“I need to speak to you privately and immediately.”
“You aren’t gettin’ this, Dad, but that is not gonna happen.”
“You aren’t getting this but that is not going to happen.”
Jesus, he was thirty-five and the man was correcting his f**king English.
“Step back,” Chace growled.
“You live with rednecks, Chace, but you don’t have to sound like them,” Trane returned, voice superior and f**k, but Chace hated that and Trane talked like that all the time.
“Got somethin’ to do, step back.”
“Personally, I blame Jacob Decker. I should have put a stop to you spending time with him when you both were at school. Your mother wouldn’t hear of it. Now I hear he’s back.”
Chace’s body went solid.
He was making a point and not the usual one.
Deck hated Chace’s Dad. Trane Keaton returned the favor.
Deck won a full scholarship to the private school Chace attended but he didn’t come from money. His father was an electrician. A skilled trade but not acceptable in the life of the Aspen Keatons. It didn’t matter that Deck had an IQ of one fifty, a certified f**king genius. He was not good enough for Chace. When Deck didn’t go on to cure cancer or help the government create space age weaponry but used his superior reasoning and higher intellect to do shit that was a little f**king scary, Trane felt this was proof positive he’d been right all along.
But this wasn’t the point Trane was making.
He was telling Chace they were keeping an eye on him.
Not a surprise but an annoyance. Deck could definitely take care of himself. When, in the flash of an eye, you could calculate your height, weight, muscle mass, the poundage behind your swing, aim and connect knowing exactly what kind of damage you’d inflict to wherever you connected, you could seriously f**k someone up. This wasn’t theoretical. When they were in high school and college together, Chace had seen it firsthand. Jacob Decker never got bested, not only because he was freaking tall and seriously strong but because he was f**king smart.
But if Trane and his band of ass**les got impatient, they could aim at anyone to make their point to Chace.
Deck was in that firing line.
He made a mental note to phone Deck on the way to the hospital and repeated, “Step back.”
Trane’s eyes locked to his son.
“And, if you see Faye Goodknight any longer, your mother will want to meet her.”
Trane stepped back then. This was because Chace angled out of the car and he had no choice.
But Trane didn’t retreat, just gave him room so Chace, unfortunately, ended up nose to nose with him.
“You don’t breathe her air,” he whispered.
“You’ll never learn it’s not advantageous to wear your heart on your sleeve,” Trane replied, sounding put out that Chace had not learned one of the many useless lessons he’d tried to drill into him when he was a kid.
“Wore it for Ma. Anyone who wants to get at me knows I’m that kinda man. Got nothin’ left to hide. The thing you don’t get is, that kinda man is the kinda man a real man wants to be so there’s nothin’ to hide.”
“Foolish?” Trane’s voice was snide.
“Protective.” Chace’s was firm.
“If you give it all away, Chace, you’re not protecting yourself.”
“It isn’t me I’m gonna protect.”
“Therein lies your faulty strategy.”