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anti-social and could barely hold a conversation. Plus he gave off angry vibes like crazy.

    I didn't like him.

    Not at all.

    And I could tell Rachel was worried about what was unfolding in front of us as well.

    When Clay left the lunch table abruptly, I couldn't help myself. “What the fuck was that?” I knew I sounded like a dick. And I could tell by the way Maggie's jaw clenched that I had said the wrong thing. But that guy was a weirdo. And I didn't like the way Mags seemed to be twisting herself into knots over him.

    Rachel's hand squeezed my knee under the table in silent warning. But I couldn't help but wish she'd keep her hand there. It felt nice. Even under the circumstances.

    “Maybe he's just shy.” I knew Rachel was trying to placate the situation. Her fingers squeezed into my skin, obviously trying to communicate the message that I should shut the hell up and let her handle it. I wanted to do whatever Rachel asked of me if it meant keeping her hand on my leg. Too bad I was always bad at listening.

    The problem was Mags and I were too much alike. Most of the time, it was a source of mutual respect and camaraderie. Right now, it meant we were about to have an explosion.

    “Or a whack job. He has that whole school shooter thing going on, you know?” I said trying not to flinch as Rachel pinched the side of my knee with her fingers. So much for biting my tongue. Now I would have both of the girls pissed at me.

    To say Maggie got kind of mad would be like me saying that hell is kind of hot. She went off. Really. She let me have it. And I couldn't do much more than stare at her in shock. Maggie never lost her shit with me. Even when I deserved it. Sure, she could be cutting and to the point. It's what I loved about her. But she had never gone full on postal before.

    And it made me angry. Like, really, really angry. Because this was happening now over some guy who wasn't worth the gunk on the bottom of her shoe. My protective instincts were going into overdrive and I wanted to go smack the shit out of the punk for getting my friend wound up like that.

    No one messed with my girls.

    Ever.

    But Rachel instantly jumped into her role as mediator. She succeeded in calming Maggie down. But only enough so she could go track Clay “Unabomber” Reed down.

    Rachel sat down heavily beside me after Maggie had left. “Sorry if I was out of line,” I mumbled, feeling a little crappy for my part in the drama. Rachel sighed, her shoulders sagging a bit.

    I wanted to put my arm around her. Any other time I would have. Now I wasn't sure that was a smart thing to do. “Well, you need to tell Mags, not me,” she said succinctly. Rachel was right. I did owe Maggie an apology. I hated fighting with my girls. But it seemed like that was all that happened anymore.

    Before going to find Maggie, I turned to Rachel, ignoring the stirring in my gut as I watched her tuck a curl behind her ear. “What do you think of that guy? Really,” I asked her.

    Rachel met my eyes and I knew in that instant, that for whatever our issues, we were on the same page where Clayton Reed was concerned. “I don't know, Danny. But I've never seen Mags like this. It worries me. It's not like her to obsess over some boy. And to blow off cross-country? All she talks about is Clayton Reed. When have you ever known her to talk about a guy like this? I mean, I'd be happy for her if there wasn't something else going, you know? The way Clay acted today was really weird and then Maggie jumping all over us to defend his crappy attitude. I didn't like it. Not a bit,” Rachel let out in a rush.

    Without allowing myself time to think any more about it, I reached out and took her hand. Our fingers weaved together effortlessly. Her palm, pressed against mine perfectly. “We'll take care of her. We always take care of each other. And no one will ever mess with my girls while I'm around,” I said with confidence. Because I fucking meant it.

    Rachel