Page 39 of Daddies’ Holiday Toy (Kissmass Daddies #1)

LIAM

My foot slams down hard against the gas pedal, the old truck jerking forward like it’s just as tense as I am.

The phone’s pressed so tight to my ear I know I’m going to have a red mark there later, but I don’t care.

Reece still isn’t answering.

“Come on,” I mutter, stabbing the call button again with my thumb. “Pick up.”

The screen glares back at me, stubbornly ringing as the cold night air whips in through the open windows.

I’ve got them rolled down despite the temperature because I need the air, need the sting of it in my lungs to keep my brain from locking up entirely.

My breath clouds instantly in front of me, a harsh reminder of how cold it is and how fast I’m breathing it in.

Jack’s voice from fifteen minutes ago is still replaying in my head, raw and edged with pain, like a busted guitar string.

“Carson showed up to my place. Punched me in the face before I even got a word out.”

I’d gripped the phone tighter, knuckles whitening around my kitchen counter as I’d leaned against it. “What the hell? Why?”

Jack had laughed then, a short and bitter sound—one of those ugly, disbelieving noises that tells you someone’s past the point of shock.

“Because Maggie told him. She fucking told him everything. About Holly, about us, and…the pregnancy. I should’ve known she couldn’t keep her damn mouth shut.”

Carson knew.

And if Carson knew, then Holly—sweet, unprepared, blindsided Holly—was about to be standing dead center in the kind of detonation site she didn’t deserve or was ready for.

“Shit,” I grind out now, the word tight between my teeth as I take the next corner too fast, tires squealing just enough to make someone on the sidewalk jerk back.

A pedestrian steps into the crosswalk without looking, and I swerve, swearing again under my breath.

They yell after me, the words lost in the rush of wind and engine noise. I don’t even look back.

There’s no time.

Carson’s not going to stop with just showing up at Jack’s place and throwing a few punches.

No, he’s going to want answers, and he’s going to want them from all of us.

Maybe in the kind of way that leaves more than just bruises behind.

My jaw tightens until my teeth ache.

And Holly…

Carson’s never hit her.

Not once.

But impulsiveness doesn’t even begin to cover that man.

He’s quick to anger and quicker to act before thinking.

And right now?

That impulsiveness is tangled up with betrayal and rage, two things that make people dangerous, especially people like Carson, who never see the difference between protecting what’s theirs and controlling it.

I shove the phone against my ear again, trying Reece one more time while my free hand fists tight around the wheel.

The thought of her in there alone in that bakery while her dad pounds on the door, demanding the truth, saying things she’ll never be able to forget, makes my stomach churn.

I press harder on the gas pedal.

I have to get there first.

The next red light might as well be a brick wall between me and her.

I drum my fingers against the steering wheel, watching the seconds bleed out on the crosswalk timer like it’s mocking me.

My knee bounces hard enough to rattle the keys hanging from the ignition.

Reece still isn’t picking up, Jack’s not calling back, which means it’s just me.

When the light flips, I slam the accelerator again, the truck roaring loudly.

Streetlights and Christmas displays streak past, but all I can see is Holly’s face when she hears her dad knows.

Her eyes going wide, her voice cracking, the way she always presses her lips together when she’s trying not to panic.

Two more turns and I’m finally there.

I spot it before anything else—Carson’s old black Chevy parked crooked at the curb, hazard lights blinking like a warning that I’m already too late to heed.

The sight punches the breath out of me.

“Fuck,” I hiss, yanking the wheel and pulling in behind him.

Even from here, I can see him through the front windows of the bakery, a broad, looming shape just inside the door.

He’s planted there, chest puffed out, hands moving as he talks, no, demands answers from the woman standing in front of him.

His stance is pure Carson: one foot forward, weight thrown into it in order to bear the brunt of a punch thrown his way, crowding whoever he’s facing.

And Holly…she’s stuck behind the counter, shoulders drawn tight, both hands gripping the edge while she speaks calmly to the raging storm in front of her.

Mallory’s there, too.

Thank fuck.

She’s standing half in front of Holly, chin lifted like she’s ready to go toe-to-toe with the man standing in front of her.

But Carson’s focus is locked on tight to his daughter, every inch of him radiating that dangerous blend of righteous anger and wounded pride.

I’m out of the truck before I even think about it, the cold air slicing through my coat.

The door swings open under my hand, the bell chiming too softly for the tension in here.

“Carson,” I say as soon as I clear the doorway.

His head whips toward me.

His eyes are bloodshot, jaw set so hard the tendons around his face stand out like steel cables. “ You .”

The word drips with contempt, like it tastes foul in his mouth.

I hold my ground. “You need to back off.”

“The hell I do,” he snaps, stepping toward me. “My daughter’s knocked up by one of you bastards, and you think I’m just gonna?—”

“You think screaming at her is gonna fix it?” I cut in, matching his step with one of my own. “You think making her cry is gonna make her any less pregnant?”

“She’s my daughter,” he grinds out, stabbing a finger toward Holly without looking at her. “You don’t get to tell me how to talk to her.”

“Stop making this worse. It’s not going to change anything.”

Behind me, I can hear Holly’s quick, shallow breaths.

The sound hooks deep into me, twisting my heart.

I’m done letting her be treated like garbage by this man, the one person she should’ve been able to count on for protection her entire life.

I refuse to be complacent in her abuse any longer.

Carson takes another step, and suddenly we’re too close, the space between us charged enough to snap.

His voice drops, low and lethal. “Was it you?”

My hands flex at my sides, but I don’t move. “Doesn’t matter.”

He exhales sharply, like I just confirmed every worst thought in his head. “What. It. You. Liam.”

“It doesn’t matter , Carson.”

And then, without warning, his hand comes up.

It happens fast, too fast for me to react in time, which is exactly what Carson is banking on.

His shoulder turns like he’s about to point or jab at me, but at the last second I realize it’s got too much momentum.

I recognize it for what it is half a second before it lands.

He slams his fist into the side of my face, nearly knocking me over. I catch his wrist mid-arc for the next impact.

“Don’t,” I grind out, blood already pooling in my mouth.

“Dad!” Holly screams.

It makes him pause, but only for a second.

His eyes widen as he looks past me toward her, and I can feel the incredulousness rolling off him.

He yanks his hand away from mine. “You’re defending him ?”

“I’m defending myself!” she fires back.

Her hands slam down on the counter so hard the pen holder next to the register jumps.

“You can’t just storm in here and start a damn fight! You’re not a fucking teenager in the scrap yard!”

He actually laughs.

It’s a sharp, and bitter sound that echoes too loud in the small space. “You think I’m just gonna sit around and listen to how my friends fucked you ? Your mom told me all about what these sick, nasty perverts did. I’m not about to let them defile my baby girl and get away with it.”

“I’m not a kid!” she snaps. “I’m a damn adult, I can do what I want!”

That sets something off in him immediately.

“No, you’re not. You’re a grown woman making stupid decisions. Fucking my friends. What the hell were you thinking? They’re twice your age!”

Her bottom lip trembles.

I step forward, angling my body between them.

“Carson, you need to leave.”

He swings at me again. “Like hell I do.”

This time, it’s not aiming for my face.

It’s to shove me out of the way. His palm slams into my chest, the force driving me back a step.

Mallory’s moving toward us then, brandishing her cellphone and waving it in the air like it’ll be enough to grab Carson’s attention.

“Hey! You better knock it off or I’m calling the cops!”

But Carson’s already squaring up again, the veins in his neck standing out.

“I swear to God, if it’s your baby, Liam, I’m going to fucking kill you?—”

I don’t let him finish.

My palm hits his shoulder hard, forcing him back a step, just enough to break the angle he’s standing at.

I shove him again when he comes at me, going low to use my body weight as a counter against his own, shoving him toward the door so we can hopefully take this out onto the street and away from both of our two innocent bystanders.

“Stop it! Please, both of you!” Holly pleads.

The bell over the door chimes again.

All four of us whip our heads around to see who’s walking through the door.

To my surprise, it’s Jack.

He stops short in the doorway for half a beat, taking in the scene: me squared off with Carson, Holly caught between us, Mallory standing with her phone held up to her ear.

Half of his face is swollen, purple around his jaw from Carson punching him, looking even worse in the dim lighting.

It takes him all of five seconds to move again.

“Enough,” his voice booms.

Carson lunges for him, shoving past me, to meet Jack head-on.

Their shoulders collide with a thud that makes me wince out of sympathy.

I grab Carson’s arm, trying to wedge myself between them again and to help Jack shove him toward the door.

But Jack’s already got a fist in his shirt, and the two of them are snarling in each other’s faces.

“Wait, stop!” Holly’s voice is drowned out by the sound of Carson spitting curses at us both, and then he’s slamming his body into Jack’s, both of them flying toward the window next to the door and banging against it.

I move in, grabbing a fist full of Carson’s jacket to yank him away, but Jack’s right there again, swinging.

His fist catches Carson’s jaw with a sickening smack, making the other man stumble back into the counter, knocking against it so hard the thing tips back for a second before slamming back down onto the ground.

“Stop!” I roar, grabbing Jack’s arm and shoving him toward the wall. “Enough!”

But Carson’s not done.

He comes off the counter like a bull, slamming into Jack and taking me down with them.

The three of us hit the floor in a tangle of limbs and fists, the sound of grunts and curses filling the air.

Mallory’s yelling now, but I can’t make out the words over the chaos.

I get a grip on Carson’s shoulder, wrenching him back enough to get my knees under me.

“Knock it off!” I shout.

Jack’s got blood on his lip now, breathing hard, and I know that look—he’s not going to back down without a fight.

“Both of you, outside!” I bark, but before either of them can answer, the bell over the door jangles once again.

This time it’s not a friend.

Two uniformed cops step inside, quickly coming over to rip us all apart.

Carson is wrestled to the ground and pinned there, while I’m pulled up and shoved against the glass window, my arms wretched behind my back.

“Hands where we can see them,” one of them barks at Jack.

“I didn’t start it,” Carson begins, but the cop cuts him off.

“Save it,” the one pinning him says. “All three of you, you’re under arrest.”