HERS |Tris Morgan x Jack Marston |Book III of HIS Series

"Revelations and Decisions"

"Her skirt, Alfie!"

Arthur drags a hand down his face beside you. Raising a teenage son was aging him daily.

"The poor woman is traumatized!"

"It was an accident!" Alfie protests again.

"My ass it was. I know you!"

Arthur leans over the table, the wood creaking under his weight.

"I swear to god Alfie, I will give you the belt."

His back straightening at his father's threat Alfie eyes the belt around Arthur's hips, he'd never actually received the belt but the threat of the thick leather smarting across his ass was enough to get his attention.

"Jesus Alfie, dealing with Lemoyne Raiders was easier than you," Arthur growls the frustration in him growing. "Your sister..."

He trails off, realizing that he shouldn't compare his children. They were their own minds and like it or not, his son had chosen the mind of an idiot.

Flopping back in his seat Alfie folds his arms sulkily.

It wasn't his fault Katherine's skirt had torn clean off. He'd only meant to cover her in the hay, a small silly prank to show solidarity with his sister, but as he'd jumped from the wagon he'd landed on the back of her dress, tearing the material clean up the middle as she'd tried to flee.

Admittedly her underthings had been on full display to everyone. But it seamed a tad dramatic that she'd screamed bloody murder. His uncle John had to give her his jacket just to get her to shut up.

"Go easy Arthur, he already said he was sorry."

You place a hand on your husband's shoulder, feeling the tension radiating through him.

"Katherine was overreacting about the whole thing, let's be honest."

Alfie could always count on his mother to take his side. While his sister may have had their father wrapped around her finger, Alfie had you. Always willing to defend his actions. He would ever admit it, but he was a true Mama's boy through and through.

Arthur hangs his head, exhaling deeply through his nose. "It's not the point. I had to pay Old man Jones extra for the delivery."

"C'mon Arthur, don't you remember what we were like at that age?" John chimes up from his spot by the fire.

Leaning around the back of his seat he grins knowingly.

"Hosea told me some tall tales about what you were like."

Arthur's jaw ticks. "Not helping John."

"I remember when I was thirteen,"

He leans back in the armchair and folds his arms behind his head.

"Hosea beat my ass so hard for sneaking into the brothel and stealing that und-."

"Enough!"

Arthur's hand slams on the table making you all flinch. Alfie stares up at you with wide eyes pleading for you to get him out of trouble, but you raise your brow at him, letting him know he wouldn't be getting off the hook so easily. At least not this time.

You rub your hand over Arthur's back urging him to calm down. The muscles under his shirt feel like thick knotted ropes, tight with tension but under your touch he begins to sigh and you feel him relax, even if only a little.

He scrubs a hand over his face.

"Sorry kid, didn't mean to scare you."

It was sometime hard when Alfie tested his patience but he remembers he'd made a promise not to be that type of father.