I did this because there was a man at the other end of the aisle. Tall. Broad shoulders. Silvered black hair that was messy and ill-kempt. Exceptionally handsome profile. Terrible clothes that were wrinkled and well-worn and not in a good way. Serious beer belly. He was glowering at the shelves, his side turned to us.

But Carson Steele was written all over him.

Joker’s father.

Oh my God.

Joker’s father.

I forced my head Joker’s way and saw he was on the move.

This move being he had straightened. Hands on the bar of the cart, he was flipping it around.

“We done in this aisle?” he asked tersely.

We weren’t.

But now we very much were.

“Yeah, sweetie,” I said softly.

He didn’t even look at me.

He exited the aisle immediately.

I looked back the other way and watched Joker’s father’s profile as he scowled at an elderly woman who was turning her cart into the aisle as he was walking out of it. His scowl was so ferocious the lady stared at him in blank shock.

I waited and saw him move opposite to the way we were heading.

I let out a relieved breath and quickly followed Joker.

Had a father beat on me. Had to let that go. Had to get it out. So I did.

But he didn’t.

He didn’t get it out. He might have tried, illegally fighting (whatever that meant but it conjured images of Fight Club, images that were daunting, images that made me sick for him that he’d turn to that to let out his rage, rage given to him by his dad, so I hadn’t yet asked).

But if he’d gotten it out, he wouldn’t have left the aisle.

He would have walked down it, which was where we were heading, and ignored his father. Or, if his father saw him and didn’t ignore him, he would have faced him secure in the knowledge that he was past it.

He hadn’t done that.

I knew from what I’d just witnessed that he also hadn’t seen him since he’d been back.

Of course, he wouldn’t search him out. He was past that.

Or telling himself he was.

They undoubtedly didn’t run in the same circles.

Further, Joker lived in a room in a motorcycle club compound. He didn’t have a kitchen to keep stocked. Happening onto his father in a grocery store wasn’t going to happen.

But now he was with me so he had a kitchen and it did.

And Joker didn’t let it roll off his back.

He retreated.

My Joker didn’t retreat.

He moved forward. He built fabulous cars. He took on a single mom and her kid. He patrolled the streets with his brothers to keep them safe.