Page 28 of Small Town, Big Storm

But imagine not providing for your kid?—

That thought fans the flames of old anger into something new and bright and…dangerous.

Because I suddenly remember why I’m here.

Because I suddenly rememberIdid that.

Seven years of being a deadbeat dad.

Seven years of memories lost.

Seven years of?—

I push the drink away, and Poppy jerks, her face paling.But her chin comes up and her shoulders straighten and…

She pushes her own drink away, says softly, “Just ask your question.”

Anger pulses anew, my words clipped out like bullets.“I don’t think it’s a fucking question, Pop.It’s pretty fucking clear.”

Bubblegum ice cream and gray eyes and?—

What?

So many other things I don’t know.

Because I wasn’t fuckingthere.

I hold her deep green eyes and wait.

And as the silence stretches, my anger ratchets up, twisting and twining through my middle, sharpening the edges of my rage until it feels ready to burst free, to lash out, tohurther.

God.

How fucked up is that?

I want to hurt her.

Fuckinghurther.

Especially when Poppy whispers?—

“She’s yours.”

Nine

Poppy

I takea step back from the fury rippling across his face.

“Storm—”

He sweeps out a hand and his Cedar Kiss goes flying, crashing to the floor, the glass shattering, shards flying, and alcohol and juice spraying in all directions.

Hell, that’s going to be sticky and nearly impossible to fully clean.

But it’s also far from the first time a drink has been launched in this bar.

Stifling my annoyance, I round the counter, intending to clean up the mess.