Remorse and Rumors

Savannah

“Savannah! They’re fighting again.”

Dane tips the glass door back and yells in full panic mode for me.

“Gosh freaking darn it.” I race out the door with Uncle Jonah and Percy coming right behind.

Darrion and Damon are punching each other and rolling around in the grass with Daxon picking one up only to drop them and try again.

Worthless. Daxon is of no help.

“Break it up! Right the hell now! Darrion, I fucking told you not to touch him.”

I run into a jump and tackle Darrion off Damon with Uncle Jonah going for Damon and pulling him up and back.

I lose my temper, punching down at Darrion, who blocks one and rolls us over but doesn’t see the kick I unleash in time.

I nail him in the face and add another to his chest to send him flying back with the clear sound of the air getting knocked out.

That gasped choking sound rang out into the air for some added razzle dazzle.

“Hey dickhead, what the fuck did I say? Do you want to die? Is that it?”

I’m fuming.

I know Uncle and Damon are calling me back but I don’t register their words. My sights are locked on the piece of shit brother that has irked my last nerve.

I catch movement out of the corner of my eye, finding Grams stepping out of the house and whacking a plastic spoon in her hands.

“Jonah, you need wooden spoons. These just don’t do the same job.”

She walks right to Darrion, catching his ear and yanking this man forward to be on all fours.

Looking at the dark-haired man clutching the grass with a hateful disposition, I curl my lips into a cocky smirk and wash my hands of him.

He’s Gram grams’s problem to handle now.

I turn on my heels and go to my Angel, getting pinned back by Daxon and Uncle Jonah, Dane and Percy hanging out on the porch.

“Alright, let him go.”

I tap Daxon’s back and he immediately lets go, Uncle Jonah holds on.

“Uncle, I got it, please unhand my boyfriend.”

Damon gives the stink eye to Uncle and of course Uncle Jonah gives it back.

“One more fight—one more!—and I’ll load everyone up in the back of the squad car.”

“Yes, sir. We will behave,” I agree and wait.

Thankfully, my uncle moves away and lets Damon go. I know he didn’t fight back since it was my uncle and I’m grateful.

I wrap my arms around Damon and pull him into my chest. My fingers going into his hair, I can feel him breathe me in.

His heavy breath steams my neck and blows some of my hair back.

“Are you alright, Angel?”

He nods, but I can tell he isn’t. I’m sure he is in pain.

His hands are cracked open, and the white gauze that tapes his hands has turned red. Blood has sprayed his teeth, and his lip is cut again.

My sweet Angel.

“Inside now. Have me say it again, and I’ll show you the belt.” Grams has it handled behind us, it would seem.

Darrion is up but hunched over at an odd angle, with Grams jerking his ear off the side of his head.

My Uncle Jonah looks far too pleased, his arms crossed at his chest and this smugness I haven’t seen him show.

“What happened?” I talk softly so only he and I can hear what’s being said between us.

Dane and Percy open and shut the glass door for Grams to haul Darrion’s tall frame through.

Daxon and Uncle walk over to the boys, and I don’t know what about, but they seem to talk about something they all agree on for once.

Small mercies, I guess.

“Darrion being a dick. I’m fine, baby. Are you okay? He didn’t get a hit in, right?”

His dark eyes soften, looking me over for any sign of a red spot for evidence of a show of force that would be the end for the eldest Henley, I can assure you.

“No, he didn’t. I’m too fast.” I use my thumb to swipe the dribble of blood that drops on his chin.

“I wouldn’t have let them come if I would have known. I went too soft on them. I knew I should have done more. I should have…I got him.”

An idea pops into my head, and visions of scaring Darrion come to life.

~I will hurt him, I will smite him.~

I plan on keeping my word, but I will give him one single chance to not make me. If he hurts my Angel or any of his brothers again, I will end him.

“That’s none of your business. Darrion Bartholomew Henley, sit your ass down. NOW!” Grams roars from the inside of the house.

Damon winces at the tone, while I crack the fuck up.

“Bartholomew?! Oh my God, no! That’s so much worse than Heathcliff. Oh, this is perfect.”

Daxon and Dane laugh, agreeing with me.

Uncle Jonah looks like the teacher that hangs out with the students when waiting for their parents to come pick them up.

“It’s not a rumor, you know she isn’t his, Grams. One look at her and you can tell.”

The sound of something being hit is loud and shakes the glass.

My uncle is in the door with all of us behind him.

In the kitchen, Darrion is on the floor, laid out like a dead man, face down.

Grams makes a cross on her chest and meets all of our shaken eyes and open mouths with a tight-lipped smile and a wave of her hand around the handle of a frying pan like, ~oh don’t mind me, nothing to see here.~

She knocked him out with a frying pan.

“Is he dead?” Dane whispers, still in shock.

“Well, he’s the doctor.” I make a dry joke to lighten the mood.

“No, dovey, he isn’t. He is just asleep. When he wakes up, he should be more respectful and mannerly. And know when to keep his big mouth shut, his nose out of other people’s business, and be a better brother. If not, I’ll give it another go.”

My Uncle Jonah bends down to check his pulse and sighs. His face back in his hands, he looks up to Grams and shakes his head.

“Gale, damn it. If I have said it once, I have said it a thousand times before. You cannot go around assaulting people.”

I snort and duck my head in at Damon when Grams shoots a glare at me.

“And I’ve told you: mind your business, Jonah.” She spins the handle of the skillet in her hands like she is ready to start swinging again.

I love Grams.

The conversation we all heard comes back through my thoughts, replaying what we overheard.

~“It’s not a rumor, you know she isn’t his, Grams. One look at her and you can tell.”~

That’s what Darrion said.

This gut feeling comes back in, and lately I have been ignoring them.

I can’t keep doing that. Last time I had a gut feeling, Damon was getting his soul beat out of his body and almost dying.

“Grams, please don’t hit me for asking…but was he talking about me?”

Uncle Jonah stands up with Darrion being slung over his shoulder.

“No, he wasn’t. Why don’t you and Damon go pick up dinner?”

Uncle walks out of the room and plops Darrion on the couch. A huge knot was appearing, looking like a pinhead sprouting from the top of his forehead.

“That’s not suspicious at all, Uncle Jonah. When do you want Damon and I alone ever?”

The room grows smaller. Percy starts to squirm, and Daxon sticks his hands in his pockets, looking at Grams for answers on what to do.

“It’s been a long day, Savannah. Get food, bring it back. That’s all.” His credit card gets handed out, and this look he gets when he doesn’t want to talk about something is written all over his face.

I let go of Damon’s side and take the two steps that clears the space between my uncle and me.

“You’re hiding something.” I take the plastic card and never leave my uncle’s eyes.

He is a great cop, but he can’t lie to family.

It’s that look, the same one I saw throughout my life and know all too well. That look that says the news isn’t good.

I saw it when I asked about Morgan when I woke up from a coma. I have had bad news given to me at the hands of my uncle, and I know the signs.

“I’ll drop it for now. But only for now. Let’s go, Angel.”