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“You can’t just pop in like this,” Beckett got out between clenched teeth.
“We’re her grandparents. We have every right to see our granddaughter, Beckett,” Glen responded, sounding just as angry.
“Zoey called and invited us a few days ago. Of course we said yes. I’d think you’d put aside your pride to do what’s best for her,” Marjorie added.
“I always do what’s best formydaughter,” he ground out. A vein pulsed wildly in his neck. Shit, this was going downhill fast.
“If that’s the case—”
Grayson cut off Glen. “I think it’s best if you both leave.”
“You can’t kick us out,” Marjorie replied with a slight waver in her voice. “We’ve barely said hi to Zoey.”
“I can and I am.” He gestured to the door. “If you truly care about your granddaughter, you should leave before she overhears any of this.”
Marjorie’s eyes grew downcast. “We only want to spend time with her, Beckett. We’ve already lost Heather. We can’t lose her too.”
“I understand that, Marjorie, but she can’t replace Heather, and I don’t want her to feel like she has to.”
The older woman drew in a sharp breath. I felt terrible for her and her husband, but now was not the time to have this conversation.
Grayson moved forward, forcing Heather’s parents to shuffle toward the exit. “Thanks for coming.” He opened the door.
“We haven’t said goodbye to Zoey yet!” Marjorie’s voice trembled. A small part of me felt bad for her, but they should have cleared coming tonight with Beckett.
“I’ll let her know something came up,” Beckett said, his anger barely controlled.
Grayson pointed at the door and barely waited for them to leave before closing it.
Beckett vibrated with anger. He needed time to pull himself together—with Marjorie and Glen in front of the building, that left the back to escape through. I threaded my fingers through his and pulled him into the kitchen.
He stopped short and threw me a startled glance.
While still having surprise on my side, I tugged harder, forcing him off balance.
“You need to cool off,” I whispered and looked meaningfully at his daughter.
After a few more reluctant steps, he moved with determination toward the back door.
I waved at Zoey, who barely glanced at us. “Your dad’s going to help me with a few boxes out back.”
“Mm-hm,” she absently responded. Her little tongue poked out of her mouth as she concentrated on decorating a pumpkin-shaped cookie.
Beckett didn’t stop to talk to his daughter, likely knowing he wasn’t in the right frame of mind. We quickly made our way outside, and I shut the heavy door behind us. Stars twinkled in the darkened sky, and the lights on the roof and side of the building glowed enough for us to see the small parking lot before us. No one used this space except for the six businesses on the first floor of this strip.
We stood there side by side, not saying a word. Beckett’s harsh breath was the only thing that filled the silence between us.
I laid a hand on his arm. “You okay?”
“No, I’m not fucking okay,” he barked out.
I flinched at his tone.
“Damn it. I’m sorry.” He ran a hand over his brow.
“It’s okay.” I knew his tirade wasn’t directed at me.
“No, it’s not. You don’t deserve my anger.” He turned and slammed his open palm down on the brick wall. “They just make me so fucking mad.”