Page 16 of Rough Daddy (REAL DADDIES: Boone Brothers #5)

Fourteen

Beau

" D olores, I need you to call my brothers."

The radio crackles with static before her voice cuts through, sharp as a chainsaw. "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. What'd you do now, Beau Boone?"

I stare out at the mountain road we'll be taking in twenty minutes. Tessa is upstairs, throwing clothes into a bag. After I fucked the attitude out of her, I put her in the bathtub for some quiet time while I moved all twenty-fucking-eight of her suitcases and garbage bags into my house.

Her shit’s damn near taking over the entire upstairs, but fuck, just seeing it there makes my dick hard and I want to beat my fucking chest.

She’s here. Her stuff’s here. I’ve moved her in.

She might not quite grasp the permanence of it all, but in time, she will.

I’m making sure she never gets away. Rooting a baby in that sweet little belly is one way, but I’ll also get a ring on her finger and make her a Boone before she can rethink anything.

My truck's gassed up and ready, and Tessa sent her brother a message telling him we’d be there today.

"I'm leaving town. Need Jack and Cade to cover the shop for a few days."

"A few DAYS?" Her voice hits a pitch that could crack concrete. "Beau Boone, you haven't missed a day of work since Clinton was getting his dick sucked in the Oval Office. What the hell—"

"Dolores, what did I tell you about bringing up Clinton getting his dick sucked?"

"Don't you 'Dolores' me, boy. This is about that girl, isn't it? The one who's got you acting like you swallowed a canary?"

Despite everything, my mouth twitches. Seventy years old and still sharp as a tack. "Yeah. It's about her."

"She in trouble?"

"Her brother is. We're going to get him."

A pause. Then her voice goes softer, the drill sergeant routine dropping away. "How bad?"

"Bad enough that she was ready to drive off this mountain alone to handle it." The memory of her trying to leave, the desperation in her voice, makes my jaw clench.

"And now you're going with her."

"Damn right, I am."

Another pause. Longer this time.

"About time you found something worth fighting for besides carburetors." Her voice turns brisk again. "I'll call your brothers."

"Dolores—"

"You bring that girl and her brother home safe, you hear me? And Beau?" Her voice goes fierce. "Don't you dare come back without them. I didn't spend twenty years watching you turn into a hermit just to let you fuck this up now."

The radio goes dead.

But I swear I hear my mother giggling down from heaven.

Two hours later, I'm watching Tessa fidget in the passenger seat as New York countryside blurs past. My hands are steady on the wheel, but I can feel the tension radiating off her in waves.

"You really left the shop for this? I thought that was your life. Your home?" she says quietly.

I stroke my thumb over her knuckles where our hands are linked across the console. "Same thing you'd do for Ethan."

"That's different. Ethan's my family."

"And you're mine now. Which makes him mine, too."

The certainty in my voice seems to settle something in her, but I can see the worry still eating at her.

"What if he doesn't want to come? What if my parents..." She trails off, fear creeping in. "They're not going to just let him go, Beau. He's their... their asset."

"Then we convince them otherwise."

"You don't understand. They're not reasonable people. Everything's about money, control, image. Ethan and I were never their children. We were their retirement plan."

My grip tightens on the wheel. "And what happens when that plan stops paying off?"

She goes quiet at that, and I can practically hear the gears turning in her head.

The GPS announces our exit, and her whole body tenses.

"What's the play here?" Panic starts creeping into her voice. "I can't just take him. They won't let me. And Ethan... he's scared of change. He's never lived anywhere else."

"We start with a visit. A couple weeks. Let him see what a different life can be like. He can see you happy." I keep my voice calm. "Then we figure out the rest."

"A visit?" Hope flickers across her face, then falters. "I don’t know, you haven’t met my parents. They are going to use him to keep me there. They know how to use leverage.”

"We’ll see about that. You’re the one paying the fucking bills. You have the power, baby. Not them."

The house comes into view. Perfect suburban facade, expensive cars in the driveway. There's a black Range Rover that looks like it just drove out of a showroom.

The way Tessa's breathing has gone shallow, I know she’s preparing for battle. Every protective instinct I have is screaming at me to shield her from whatever's waiting in that house.

"Where's Ethan's room?"

She points up to the second floor, and I look up to see a figure silhouetted against the light, looking down at us.

"He knows we're here," she says, relief flooding her voice. "He's waiting."

"Course he is. Kid's been counting the hours." I turn to cup her face. "We’ll bring him home. You ready for this?"

"No. But let's do it anyway."

The front door opens before we ring the bell.

Richard Quinn stands there in a thousand-dollar suit, looking like Central Casting’s idea of a successful executive. I recognize Tessa Quinn’s business manager and father from my research... also known as stalking.

But I can see the stress in the tight lines around his eyes, the way his jaw's clenched like he's bracing for impact. Maybe he’s smarter than I thought.

Behind him, a woman who must be Tessa's mother hovers in the hallway. Same bone structure as her daughter, but where Tessa's beautiful, this woman looks brittle. Hollow. Like someone who's been performing for so long she's forgotten who she really is.

"Tessa." Richard's voice is carefully modulated. He throws me a one-second glance, then back to her, but I note the tick that twitches below his eye. "You look... different."

"Dad." She steps closer to me, and I feel the slight tremor in her hand. "This is Beau."

His dark eyes, so much like hers, return to mine. "Mr...?"

"Boone." I don't offer my hand. We’re not here to play nice. Besides, if I got his hand in mine, knowing what I know, I’d break it.

Not only did this man spend years turning his children into products—and I can see exactly what it cost them—he also scared my baby girl into thinking she was in real danger.

The only reason I’ll even let it pass is because she said he never actually touched her.

"Mr. Boone." He sniffs, then focuses back on Tessa. "We need to talk. There are... complications. With your decision to disappear."

"I didn't disappear. I left."

"Without consideration for your contractual obligations. Or your family."

The word 'family' hits wrong, and I see Tessa flinch. This asshole has no idea what that word means.

"Where's Ethan?" she asks.

"Upstairs. Packing, apparently." Richard's mouth twists. "He seems to think he's going on some kind of adventure?"

"He is."

"Tessa." Her mother's voice is sharp. "You can't just take him. He's fifteen. He has school, and responsibilities—"

"What responsibilities?" Tessa's voice turns hard, and I feel proud of my girl for standing up to them. "You mean the YouTube channel you make him film? The sponsored posts? The brand partnerships where you parade him around like a trained monkey? The way you use his neurodivergence slash autism like product placement? It’s all so trending now, isn’t it? Being all inclusive. Nice move."

"That's not fair—"

"Isn't it?" She steps forward, and I watch her transform from nervous girl to fierce protector. "When's the last time either of you asked Ethan what he wanted? When's the last time you treated him like a person instead of a revenue stream? Got him some help instead of exploiting his uniqueness?"

Richard's face flushes. "Everything we did was for both of you. The house, the cars, the opportunities—"

"Were paid for by us . With our childhoods. Our privacy. Our mental health."

"Mental health?" Her mother's laugh is bitter. "Drama, you mean. You've always been dramatic, Tessa. Ever since you were small."

Something dark and protective flares in my chest. The urge to step between Tessa and these brand managers masquerading as parents, to shield her from their poison, is overwhelming. But she's handling herself. She doesn't need me to fight this battle.

Not yet.

"I want to see Ethan," she demands.

"Of course. But first, we need to discuss the financial implications of your.

.. tantrum." Richard glances at me, clearly uncomfortable having this conversation in front of a stranger. Especially one that looks like he’s about to detach his head from his neck.

"Your brand partnerships alone are worth—"

" Were worth. Past tense." Tessa crosses her arms. "I terminated all my contracts. Deleted my accounts. It's over, Dad."

The silence that follows is deafening. I watch Richard's face cycle through shock, rage, and something that looks like panic.

"You can't... Tessa, you cannot be serious. We spent years building you as a brand."

"Dead serious."

"Do you have any idea what you've done? The house payments, trips, lawyers, your mother’s illness, Ethan's school—"

"Will be your responsibility now. Like they should have been all along."

Richard's composure finally cracks. "Goddammit, Tessa! You can't just walk away from millions of dollars because you're having some kind of identity crisis!"

"Watch me."

That's when Ethan appears at the top of the stairs, duffel bag in hand.

The kid looks like a younger, male version of Tessa. Same honey-colored hair, same intelligent eyes. But where she's learned to hide her pain behind performance, he wears his on his sleeve. Fifteen years old and already exhausted by the weight of other people's expectations.

"Tess?" The word packs a heavy punch. Like he’s waiting for someone to let him down but hoping they don’t.

"Hey, little brother." Her whole demeanor softens. "Ready for an adventure?"

"Are you seriously doing this?" Richard turns to me, apparently deciding I'm the reasonable adult in the room. "Are you going to let her destroy her family over some... what, midlife crisis?"

"I'm forty-four," I tell him calmly. "She’s eighteen, so definitely she’s not having a midlife crisis. And she's not destroying anything. She's saving herself."

"Saving herself? From what?"

"From you."

Richard's face goes red, and I can see him fighting the urge to take a swing at me.

Bring it. Breaking things is my specialty.

"You don't know anything about our family—"

"I know enough." I step forward, and he automatically takes a step back.

Interesting. "I know you turned your children into cash cows.

I know you're more worried about your house payments than their happiness. I know Tessa is scared that one of these days you’ll lose your temper and break her instead of her stuff.

And I know that boy has been counting the hours until someone came to get him. "

"This is ridiculous," her mother interjects. "Ethan is fifteen. He can't just... leave. There are laws—"

"About kidnapping, yes." I pull out my phone, showing them the screen. "Good thing we're not kidnapping anyone. We're here to invite Ethan for a visit. A couple of weeks in the mountains. Fresh air, family time. Perfectly legal."

Richard's eyes narrow. "A visit..."

"That's right,” Tessa says. “Let him see what life can be like outside this goldfish bowl. Then we all sit down and figure out what's best for everyone. Or I’ll start posting again. A few videos of my own this time. From over the years. Mostly of you two. Yelling, berating, telling me to lose weight. That you didn’t care if I was tired or hated the brand, that it’s all about the money.

Maybe even the one with Dad hurling a bowl of Mac and Cheese at the wall right by my head because our numbers were two percentage points down on the previous day. "

Silence follows, and Tessa lets it stretch. Good girl.

"Two weeks," Richard says finally.

"Three," Tessa counters.

"Two and a half."

"Deal." She looks up at Ethan. "What do you say, E? Want to come see some mountains?"

"That was..." Ethan's voice trails off as we pull away from the house. He's in the backseat, staring out the window like he can't quite believe this is really happening.

"Terrifying?" Tessa suggests.

"Awesome." He grins, and I can see the real kid underneath all the performance anxiety. "Did you see Dad's face?"

"I saw it." I catch his eye in the rearview mirror. "How you feeling about all this, Ethan?"

"Like I can finally breathe." He leans forward between our seats. "Is it really true? About the mountains? And fishing? And bears?"

"Real as it gets. Got a whole lake up there just waiting for someone to teach proper casting technique."

"I don't know how to fish."

"Good thing I do." I watch him process this, seeing the wonder in his expression. "Lots of things to learn when you're not spending all your time in front of a camera."

He goes quiet for a moment. "What happens after two and a half weeks?"

The question hangs there. I want to promise him we'll figure it out, that he'll never have to go back to that house, that life. But I can't make promises I'm not sure I can keep.

"We take it one day at a time," I say finally. "See how it goes. But Ethan? Whatever happens, you're not alone anymore. Understand?"

"Yeah." His voice is small, hopeful. "I understand."

Tessa reaches back and squeezes his hand. "We're family now. The three of us. That's not changing."

"Even if..." He hesitates. "Even if I mess up? Even if I'm not good at being normal?"

"Especially then." My voice is firm, certain. "That's what family means. You show up for each other. Even when you’re different. What’s normal anyway?"

“Wait ‘til you meet his brothers.” Tessa snorts. “Nothing normal there.”

As we merge onto the highway, heading toward the mountains and whatever comes next, I feel something settle in my chest. Something that feels like purpose.

I've got my family now. My girl and her brother. And I'll be damned if I let anyone hurt them again.

Time to show them what real protection looks like.