Watching Mia walk away from me kills me. I don’t want to push her out of my life, but it’s for her own good. She deserves so much more than I can give her. A man . . . a real, unbroken man who can treat her like a princess.

I lift my coat from the ground and bring it to my nose. She barely wore it for five minutes, but I can still smell her on it. Anger consumes me, knowing I’ll never be with her again. An inevitable rage seemingly comes out of nowhere, and I only know how to get rid of it one-way.

I need to fight.

I walk back to my car, keeping my head down and my eyes to myself.

“I want you to let me in.” Her words ring loud in my mind.

No, she doesn’t!

She may think that’s what she wants, but she doesn’t know me, not the real me. The side that is a barely leashed monster isn’t something she would want, the same way Georgia didn’t want it. As much as I yearn for her, I can’t be with her. I get into my car and call my buddy from the gym to see if he’s still there to spar with. I need to do something. As the phone rings, I hear a honk and look in my mirror to see a car waiting for my parking spot with their blinker on.

I barely started the engine, so I ignore them, knowing I don’t move for anyone, but they honk again, and the guy throws his arms up in the air at me. I toss my phone aside, not sure if I hung up or not and open my car door.

“You leaving or what, bro?” some young punk asks me as I stalk toward his sleek black Mercedes. I reach for his door handle, yank it open, and drag him out by his throat.

“You’ll know I’m leaving, when I’m fucking gone,” I tell him and cock back a right jab, looking him square in the face.

“I don’t want any trouble,” he says, but before he can speak another word, I land the hardest punch I can manage. My knuckles pop against his skin, the impact so loud my ears buzz, and that one hit lays him out cold.

His body folds like a crushed can, and I toss him back into his car, get into mine, and drive off. My left hand is on the wheel, gripping it tightly, and my right is still balled into a fist. The feeling of his skin beneath my knuckles is so freeing, but that one hit is not enough. Fury still consumes me. One-hit fights never do shit for me, I should know that. But sometimes I’m a loose cannon.

As I drive home, I try to focus on breathing and staying in control, but I can’t shake the way things ended between Mia and me. I pushed her away because I shouldn’t care, or feel the way I do about her. She’s young and has her whole life ahead of her. The last thing she needs is me—a divorced man with two teenage daughters—dragging her down. Plus, I’m not a good person. I can’t even hold it together long enough not to attack some kid who honked at me.

I need to keep things in my life focused on my daughters, the way I have been doing since Georgia left. It’s what got me this far. Giving into Mia that one night was a mistake, one that I can’t make again. Logically, I know that. However, the thoughts and feelings she rips out of me are gonna make me lose my mind, which I’m only hanging on to by a thread.

Pulling up to my house, I take in a deep breath of air and then let it out before heading inside. I never know what to expect from the girls anymore. For all I know, there could be some raging party going on.

There isn’t. Everything is quiet. I head down to the basement to check on them. As I reach the bottom of the stairs, I smile. They are lying together on the couch, tucked under one of Georgia’s favorite blankets, watching a movie. Their tired eyes are blinking slowly, and it takes me back to when they were younger.

Rianna reaches for the remote to pause the movie, and I tell her, “Don’t.” Sitting next to her, I wrap my arm behind her, and to my surprise, she cuddles against my chest the same way she did when she was little. I touch Maisy’s cheek, my hand still stings from the events of tonight. But she grabs it, kisses the top, and then holds on to it, making everything feel better.

My heart pounds from being this close to my little girls. They may be growing up quickly, but they’ll always be little to me. The closeness in this moment is everything to me, and as clouded as my brain can get sometimes, I have to always remind myself how much they depend on me. I can’t be doing crazy shit like I did tonight hitting that guy. If I were to get caught . . . then what? They would end up moving in with Chandler? I couldn’t even imagine. It really sucks that both Georgia and I were cut from some shitty cloth, but we were. I think that’s what drew us together in the first place. We were young, and at that point, we were the only right things out of so much wrong. I don’t want that for my girls, I want to be what’s right.

* * *

“Breakfast is getting cold,” I holler down the stairs to the girls, and it isn’t a few seconds later that they come up.

“Hey, Dad,” Maisy says with Rianna in tow.

“Hey, girls. I made your favorite.”

“Wow! What’s the occasion?” Rianna asks. Her usual sarcasm is in full effect this morning.

“No occasion. I just wanted to cook for my girls.” Really there is a reason. I feel bad for grounding them and the way things have been between us lately. I know my girls; it’s totally out of character for Maisy to be fighting at school and for Rianna to have a boy in her room. Something else has to be bothering them, and as much as I hate to talk about my feelings, I’m gonna have to open up if I want them to do the same.

We all sit to eat my signature French toast. I can’t cook many things, but I can cook a damn mean French toast.

“Just ask him,” Rianna mumbles and gives Maisy that look.

She swallows and says to me, “Uh, I know we’re grounded, but—”

“You’re not grounded,” I interrupt her, which surprises them.

“What? Why not?”

“Because I know the anniversary of your mom leaving is coming up and that’s always hard.” Neither of them responds. Really, what could they even say to that? So, I continue, “You both know I love you dearly; you’re everything to me, and sometimes I go a little off the deep end trying to protect you. But I wanna do the right things. I don’t want to screw up like your mom did.”

“Dad, you’re not a screw-up. You’re the best dad in the world,” Maisy says, so sweet with unconditional love.

“Yeah, you’re nowhere close to how Mom was.”

I understand why they would say that, but the truth is I’m more like their mom than they probably know. I just work damn hard to keep my issues hidden.

“I appreciate you both saying that, but I want you to know you can always come to me to talk. You don’t need to handle your problems other ways, like fighting”—I look at Maisy and then turn my eyes to Rianna—“or with boys.” She gives me a wry smile.

“You know we’ll always come to you, Dad,” Maisy says, and as much as I hear her words, their actions lately have proven otherwise. But I trust my girls; I have to. They’re all I have in this world.