I was dreaming and I couldn't see anyone, but I could hear them.

"Oh, Christian, tell me you did not do that to her face."

I hadn't heard her voice for years, but in my dream, I immediately recognized it as belonging to Christian's mother, Aunt Christy.

"And her wrists. Is that bruising?"

"Of course I didn't do that to her face," came Christian's reply. In the fogginess of my dream I could tell he'd been offended by her comment. "Not deliberately," he quickly added.

It sounded like there was a scuffle of some sort when I heard Uncle Anthony's voice. It was low and menacing. "What does not deliberately mean?"

"Let him go, Anthony!" Aunt Christy shouted. "Stop it!"

My eyes popped open and I sat straight up. I had to be dreaming. But I would quickly realize what I’d heard was all too real. My gaze immediately landed on Uncle Anthony who was towering over Christian, who had him by the scruff of the neck. The material of Christian's long-sleeved T-shirt collar was scrunched up tightly in his father's big, brown fists.

"Don't!" I yelled while simultaneously rising from the makeshift bed. The mattress was soft beneath my feet and I started to lose my balance when I felt a hand grab my arm. It was Aunt Christy. She looked exactly as I remembered. An attractive blonde with chin-length straight hair and engaging blue eyes. Just like Christian's.

I watched as Uncle Anthony relaxed his hold on Christian. In turn, Christian brought his hands up between his father's and roughly knocked them loose. Uncle Anthony's expression darkened, and I thought he was going to retaliate at Christian's dismissal, when Aunt Christy shouted, "Enough!"

The next few minutes were a blur as conversations were scrambled and we all talked over each other.

"Quiet!" I shouted above the commotion. All eyes turned to me and I launched into the fictional explanation I'd prepared to tell my parents. I should've known better. I wasn't dealing with two people who would've been oblivious to Christian's history.

"I'm pretty sure Christian hasn't picked up a fishing pole in his life," Uncle Anthony countered, giving me a stern look. "And if he did, he wouldn't have violated his parole for the catch of the day."

I exhaled loudly and slowly shook my head. "I'm sorry. You're right. But it's not my place to explain it to you. And before you give Christian a hard time, please understand that I'm not a victim here." Pointing to my face, I added, "And so you know, this really was an accident. The bruises on my wrist weren't, but Christian can tell you everything." I looked from Uncle Anthony to Aunt Christy, whose face softened. Looking back at Christian's father, I noticed that his hadn't.

I glanced around the room and realized that a very subtle glow was coming from the skylights. The sun was starting to come up and if the light hadn't been a reminder that it was time to rise, my full bladder was. It also dawned on me that I wasn't wearing a bra and I quickly crossed my arms over my chest. I chanced a peek at Christian who was smiling at me. I secretly thanked God that we hadn't fallen asleep without our clothes on. This could've been so much worse. I knew he'd read my mind when he winked at me. I stifled a smile.

"I'll leave the three of you to talk." I excused myself and scurried toward the master bedroom. Once inside I grabbed a bra and headed for the freezing bathroom. "Thank goodness for overhead heat lamps," I whispered to nobody as I hastily put on my bra and pulled my thermal top and nightshirt back on. I was curious as to how Christian's parents were handling his explanation as I washed my face, brushed my teeth, and combed my hair. I wonder how they knew we were together and where we were? Would Bill have figured it out and contacted them without going to my parents first? I stopped mid-stroke and laid down my hairbrush. Something felt off. I opened the bathroom door and suppressed a gasp.

Their voices were unmistakable as they drifted in from the great room. My parents were here. There was a cacophony of voices and words jumbled together, but one stood out above the rest. It was my father, and he was mad.

"Where is she?" he shouted.

"She's in the bathroom. She's fine, Grizz," came Aunt Christy's soothing voice. "And we're just as upset as you. We didn't know and just found out ourselves. We flew in as soon..."

"You don't look very surprised to see your old friend is still alive." It was Christian's voice, and it was laced with sarcasm. I knew he was talking to his parents. But I didn't want to divert attention away from our situation. I wanted to address it head on. It was time to make myself known.

I made my way to the open bedroom door and assessed the room. My mother and Aunt Christy were standing off to the side of the men, talking in whispers. Uncle Anthony was standing next to Christian who had his arms crossed and his chin raised. My father was right in his face, and his shouting had died down to a low rumble.

"I don't know what the fuck is going on here, but as soon as I talk to my daughter—"

My father's words were cut off when my mother gasped. She'd noticed me standing in the doorway and I could tell by the look on her face that she'd made the same wrong assumption about my bruised face that Christian's parents had.

It all happened so fast, I couldn't have stopped it if I'd tried. My father's eyes cut to my mother. He turned around and followed her gaze, his mesmerizing green eyes landing on me. I'd never seen such rage in my life.

I started to walk quickly toward him, my words coming out fast. "It's not what it looks like, Dad." My explanation fell on deaf ears as he turned his back on me, his fist connecting with Christian's jaw.

The next sixty seconds happened in slow motion as I watched my father beating on Christian. Uncle Anthony tried to pull him off, but he was no match for my dad's heated fury. My mother and Aunt Christy were both screaming, but knew better than to go near the three men. An end table and lamp were knocked over. Not even the ceramic bear that shattered against the wood floor could break up the riot that was playing out before me.

In the chaos, I realized that Christian was not defending himself against my father. He hadn't thrown one punch to stave off the angry fists that were raining down on him. I knew what I had to do. I ran for the couch and reached for the gun hidden between the cushions. I fired two shots in the air.

The commotion immediately ceased as all eyes turned to me. But I only had eyes for one person. I watched as Christian swiped his arm across his face, the blood from his nose and cut lip leaving a streak across the fabric of his long-sleeved T-shirt.

Taking a deep breath, I lowered the gun and said, "We will either have a civil conversation or I'm going to have to ask you all to leave." I looked at each person. My father raised an eyebrow. Uncle Anthony and Aunt Christy seemed relieved. My mother was looking at me like she didn't know me. And my husband was trying not to grin. I knew he was comparing my suggestion for all of them to leave with the poke I'd given Sal at Chicky's.

"I didn't know you could handle a gun, Mimi," Christian said, while the others just stared.

I set the gun down on a side table. "I am my father's daughter."

My father kept quiet, but couldn't keep his angry glare at bay, as Christian and I launched into our explanation. We left a lot of the details out. As far as we were concerned the only important thing was that we wanted to be together.

When there was nothing left for us to say, my mother spoke up.

"Listen, there is obviously more to this story, and I think we could all benefit from digging in a little deeper. I'm sure we all have questions that need to be answered, but I'd rather not do it here." She turned and looked at Aunt Christy. "I think it would be a good idea for all of us to go back to our house. It's only a couple of hours away. We are all friends," she added with a smile. "It would be nice to spend some time together."

My father and Uncle Anthony started to object when Aunt Christy piped in, "I agree with Ginny. We're old friends, we're adults, and maybe we can hash all of this out. And it would be better to do it in a more familiar environment." She nodded at my father, and I knew she was alluding that he probably shouldn't have ventured so far from home.

I watched my father's face relax, but only a little.

"I'll put on some coffee while you two pack your stuff," Aunt Christy added, addressing me and Christian. "I need caffeine."

"I could use some too," my mother chimed in. She gave me a look that I knew meant she intended to have words with me. "Mimi, I'll drive back to our house with you in your car. Your father can drive his truck, and—"

"No!" Christian and I both shouted at the same time.

"I'll drive Mimi in her car," Christian said, his eyes landing on everyone in the room. "Dad can drive my truck."

"It's not your truck," Uncle Anthony spat. "I'd just as soon leave it here."

Ignoring his father's comments, he gave him a hard stare and said, "Mom can drive whatever car you drove." He then nodded at my parents. "And you two can drive whatever you came in."

"You're in no position to be spouting orders," my father practically growled.

"It's not an order," Christian conceded. "I'm not giving up even a second of the time I have left with Mimi. Besides, I know what all of you are thinking." He looked around the room. "Divide and conquer. It ain't gonna happen. Mimi stays with me."

I watched my father's fists as they clenched at his sides. My mother noticed it too.

"That's fine," my mother quickly added. "But when we get home, we will have alone time with our daughter, just like your parents had the benefit of talking to you without anyone around."

"Yes, ma'am," Christian replied with a curt nod.

"C'mon," I said to Christian. "Let’s pack."

He started to walk toward me when I heard my father say under his breath, but loud enough for everyone to hear, "Didn't know you raised such a wuss, Anthony. The boy didn't even know how to defend himself."

Christian stopped and turned to look at my father. "I was only being respectful. I didn't want to get off on the wrong foot by beating the shit out of my father-in-law."