“What do I want you to do?” Mickey asked the unknown Coert, his voice low, rough and filled with such fury, I felt it vibrating all through me. “It’s cool you called me, and just sayin’, she doesn’t have the kids, they’re with me. But I’m not owin’ a favor this time. I want that bitch’s DUI on record.”

I tensed.

It wasn’t even eight thirty and Rhiannon was drunk driving?

And…this time?

“Yeah,” he grunted. “Yeah,” he grunted again. “Right. Thanks, Coert.”

He disconnected and tossed his phone to the afghan.

“Goddamn shit,” he muttered to the fire.

“Mickey,” I whispered.

“Goddamn fucking shit!” he roared, surging up, but planting me gently on my feet before he did something that was sweet— unbelievably sweet in the circumstances—and bent, tagging his tee and handing it to me.

He then went after his boxers as I pulled his tee over my head and when I had it on, I saw he had his boxers up and was nabbing his jeans.

“She’s done this before?” I asked carefully.

He shoved his foot in one leg, answering, “Yeah.” He shoved in the other one and tugged them up then he looked at me. “That was what happened before the thing that happened before the bender that happened when I got shot of her ass.”

“Oh, Mickey,” I said softly, wishing words were magic and I could find the right ones to make that magic work.

He started pacing.

“Maybe she’s…” I started, stopped, then tried, “Maybe all these things are happening and she’s going to hit bottom and—”

He twisted his head to face me and snarled, “She’s not doin’ that shit with my kids.”

I stood there staring at him thinking I’d never seen anyone that angry.

In all my antics, I’d made Conrad spitting mad.

But he’d never been as angry as Mickey was right then.

Somehow, in the face of his rage, I felt no fear.

I just murmured soothingly, “Of course not, honey. You wouldn’t let it.”

“Loved her,” he spat and I flinched. Not at his words, at his emotion. “Only bitch I tagged more beautiful than her is you. Lookin’ back, I knew it was gonna be her the minute I laid eyes on her. Knowin’ that, from the second I met her, treated her ass like gold. I had it to give to her, I gave it. We had it good. She gave me babies. It didn’t happen fast, her sinkin’ into the bottle. It went slow. Can you imagine, Amy, day after day, no matter how hard you held on, watchin’ someone you love slip right through your fingers?”

“No, baby,” I said gently, again feeling the bleed inside.

This time, though, I was bleeding for Mickey.

“Does she love them?” he asked suddenly.

“I’m sorry?” I asked back in confusion.