Word count: 4807
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The next morning

I woke up to the smell of food. My first thought was, Is Josh cooking? That would be a first. Probably another way for him to say he's sorry—again. After the way he acted last night, he damn well should be apologizing. Twice over. But if he is cooking, I'll be shocked. I couldn't remember a single time he'd ever made anything for me, let alone claimed he could.

I sighed and swung my legs out of bed, heading to the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth. After pulling my hair back into a ponytail, I made my way downstairs, the smell of food growing stronger with each step.

When I turned the corner into the kitchen, I froze. It wasn't Josh standing at the stove with a spatula in hand—it was Joe.

"What the hell?" I blurted, staring at him in disbelief.

Joe glanced over his shoulder, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Morning, sunshine!"

I blinked, trying to process this scene. "What are you doing here? And why are you cooking in my kitchen?" I was shocked as hell as I walked into the kitchen.

Joe gave me a smile—soft, almost disarming. It wasn't the kind of smile I usually got from him, but it was gone just as quickly as it came when Josh's voice rang out from behind me.

"That's what I wanna know." Josh said, his tone flat but edged with tension. I didn't have to turn around to feel the anger radiating off him. Joe's eyes shifted from me to Josh, his expression unbothered.

"Well," Joe began, his voice calm and smooth, "the day Hazel and I went out to get some food, we had a long talk. Great conversation, really." He flipped whatever was in the pan without missing a beat, his movements unhurried. "We were getting to know each other, and she mentioned how she didn't know I could cook. She seemed surprised when I told her I make a mean red velvet French toast. Everyone in the family knows I know my way around the kitchen—except her, apparently. So I thought today was a good day to pop in and make her, well, you guys, breakfast." He glanced at Josh with a deliberate smile, his tone polite.

I could feel Josh's eyes boring into me as he stood on the other side of the kitchen island. He didn't say a word, but the tension in the room was so thick. His jaw was tight, his fists flexing at his sides. I knew what he was thinking, and unfortunately for me, he wasn't wrong. He knew I had called Joe here, but Joe was covering for me, playing it cool like it was all his idea. If Joe wanted to blow this wide open, he could've easily told Josh the truth—that I'd asked him to come because I was nervous about what might happen between us today. But he didn't.

Joe's eyes flicked back to me, a subtle signal that he wasn't going to throw me under the bus. For a split second, I felt something I hadn't expected—gratitude. Maybe I could trust Joe to keep his mouth shut.

Josh's eyes were locked on me as I made my way to the kitchen table, his jaw tight, his expression unreadable but clearly irritated. I could feel the tension radiating off him like a wave, but he didn't say anything at first. I pulled out a chair and sat down, pretending not to notice.

"You ain't gon cover up? Ain't gon put no clothes on?" Josh finally said.

I looked down at myself, confused. "Josh, I'm completely covered." I replied, my voice even. I was a little confused because I was wearing pajama shorts and a loose button-up top—nothing provocative or inappropriate.

"She's fine." Joe interjected from the stove, waving him off like it was nothing. "Sit down. I'll make you a plate too."

But Josh ignored him completely, his attention focused solely on me. "Them shorts are too short." he said, his tone dropping lower. "And you can button that top all the way up."

I blinked at him, surprised by his sudden outburst. "Are you serious right now?" I asked, my voice edging toward disbelief.

Josh's eyes narrowed, and I could see the irritation building with every second. This was the issue I had with him—everything was amplified now. His temper was shorter, his moods were darker, and he made a big deal about everything. Every little thing set him off, and it felt like I was constantly walking on eggshells.

"She's fine, man." Joe repeated, his voice firmer now, his tone cutting through the tension like a blade. I saw he was trying to calm Jey down but it wasn't working. He turned from the stove, locking eyes with Josh for a brief moment. "It's breakfast. Chill out."

Josh didn't even acknowledge him, his focus laser-sharp on me, his gaze hard and scrutinizing. "You know better than to walk around like that when there's company here." he said.

The comment hit me like a slap. My jaw tightened as I tried to keep my temper in check. "Okay," I said evenly, though my chest burned with anger. "I'll go put on some pants and a less revealing top."

I scooted my chair back slowly, rising to my feet. But inside, I was fuming. This wasn't Josh. He NEVER cared about what I wore—if anything, he'd encouraged me to be confident, to wear whatever made me feel good. He liked the way I dressed, he's even picked out clothes for me, outfits far more revealing than these simple pajama shorts and a button-up shirt. Now, he was picking a fight over something that shouldn't matter.

Joe stepped in before I could take another step. He moved quickly, placing a plate of French toast, egg whites, and bacon on the table in front of me. "You're fine, Hazel." he said firmly, his voice calm but unyielding. "Sit down and eat."

I hesitated, glancing at Josh, who was practically radiating fury from the other side of the room. His jaw was clenched, and his eyes were burning with barely restrained anger.

"Joe..." I started, trying to diffuse the situation. "Let me just—"

Joe cut me off. "I don't want your food to get cold." he said. Then he placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder, gently guiding me back into my seat.

I sat down, feeling relief and tension. Joe crouched slightly to meet my eyes, his expression softening for a brief moment.

"I got you." he mouthed silently, his eyes steady, filled with something I couldn't quite place—but it felt like safety.

Josh's gaze was locked on us, his knuckles white as his hands gripped the edge of the counter. The tension in the room was suffocating, but Joe didn't flinch. He turned back to the stove, calmly flipping the remaining French toast as if nothing had happened.

I picked up my fork and stared at my plate, trying to focus on anything but the storm brewing across the room. Joe's quiet confidence was the only thing keeping me grounded. For now, I'd let him take the lead. But I knew this wasn't over—not by a long shot.

Joe turned around from the stove, his demeanor calm but commanding as he reached into his pocket. He pulled out a folded piece of paper and held it out toward Josh.

"What's this?" Josh asked, snatching the paper from Joe's hand, his tone laced with irritation.

Joe leaned casually against the counter, watching Josh unfold the paper. "Dwayne needs you to make a run." Joe said simply. "You're heading to Sacramento to handle some business."

Josh's jaw tightened as he scanned the paper. His irritation morphed into full-blown anger, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the paper. "Sac is two hours away." he said, glaring up at Joe.

Joe raised an eyebrow, unbothered. "Yeah, so you better get going. I told them you'd be there by noon." His tone was calm but carried a sharpness that cut through Josh's defiance.

Josh slammed the paper on the counter, his fury palpable. "Why can't Jon do this? He ain't doing nothing right now."

Joe smirked, shrugging nonchalantly. "Dwayne told me to pick between the two of you, and I chose you." He gestured toward the untouched plate of food on the counter. "You don't wanna eat my food after I came over here out the kindness of my heart to feed you? Fine. Go to work. Make yourself useful."

Joe turned back to the stove and grabbed a plate for himself, his body language relaxed, almost dismissive, as he started plating food.

Josh took a step closer, his voice louder now. "Man, I don't gotta listen to you."

Joe paused, placing his plate on the counter before turning slowly to face Josh. His eyes locked onto Josh's, his expression steely. "You don't?" he asked, his voice low but filled with authority. "I think you do."

The room went silent.

"You really think you running shit, huh? You ain't running a damn thing." Josh said. "You think my father is gonna pick you over any of his sons? His SONS?" Josh asked. "Dwayne got you thinking you next line, but why would they appoint you?"

Joe sits down at the table across from me, with his back to Josh. His demeanor was calm and non threatening, surprisingly. I thought he would've had him hemmed up by now. 

"I'm just doing what Dwayne asked of me." He said.

"You ain't doing shit. You trying to make my life hell, thinking you in charge." Josh was fully pissed off and I could see things escalating to where I never have. They already fought the other day and it seemed tensions were still high for Josh. I was so nervous, I couldn't eat. Josh looked at me and I just stared at him. Joe was steady eating, not really phased by Josh yelling behind him. Josh turned his attention back to Joe. He continued getting on him and hitting below the belt.

"You a half breed. You ain't one of us. You ain't even fully Samoan. You can't carry this business, and you know that. That's the reason you try to go so hard because you're trying to prove yourself. You gotta work extra hard while we sit back and kick our feet up. If I really wanted this business, I would have it and you know that. THAT'S why you give me such a hard time. THAT'S why everyone is scared that I'm doing business elsewhere. They know if I really put my mind to this shit that I could take over, but you're too stupid to realize that barking orders don't make you king."

Joe leaned back in his chair, his movements deliberate. His eyes flicked to mine briefly, and with a calm demeanor that almost felt surreal given the situation, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone.

Josh stood there, pacing, the anger radiating off him like heat waves. His voice was rising with each word, his accusations and insults spilling out like venom. "That's what I thought." Josh said talking shit.

Joe didn't flinch. His calm exterior didn't waver, but there was a coldness in his gaze that sent a chill down my spine. Joe sat his phone down on the table, holding his fork in one hand and it looked like he was typing a text message with the other.

"You done?" Joe asked.

Josh let out a bitter laugh, crossing his arms. "Yeah, I'm done. Done listening to you pretend you somebody important."

"You not gon go?" Joe asked, half looking over his shoulder, his tone casual, almost dismissive.
"I ain't doing shit." Josh snapped, his words dripping with defiance.

Joe shrugged as if he didn't care either way. "Okay. Why don't you grab a plate, sit down, and eat with us?" He fiddled with his phone for a moment, locking it with a calm tap before sliding it back into his pocket.

"Man, fuck you." Josh spat, and Joe didn't flinch. Instead, he turned his attention back to his plate, a faint smile creeping onto his lips as he calmly cut into his French toast. His eyes flicked to mine briefly, and for a moment, it was as if he was completely unfazed by Josh's outburst. The calm was unnerving, almost calculated, like he was waiting for the right moment to strike—or not strike at all.

"Are you going to eat?" Joe asked me, his voice softer now, as if trying to shift the focus. I shrugged, unsure of how to respond. The truth was, I was too nervous to eat.

"Y'all getting mighty close." Josh accused, his eyes darted between Joe and me.

Joe let out a low scoff, leaning back slightly in his chair. "Close?" he repeated with a dry laugh. "She hates me." His tone was matter-of-fact, like he was stating something obvious. I mean, he's not wrong.

Josh's gaze bore into me now, searching for some kind of confirmation or denial. My stomach churned, and I felt my hands fidgeting with the edge of the table. I didn't know what he wanted me to say or do. Should I pick up the fork and eat? Should I get up and change into something else? Should I defend myself, Joe, or stay silent? Every option felt wrong, like I was trapped in a no-win situation.

His stare was unrelenting, daring me to speak, to move, to do anything that might give him a reason to snap.

Then, a few minutes later, the sound of the front door opening and closing broke the silence. My breath caught in my throat. I thought for a second that maybe Jon had come by to diffuse the tension, to talk to Josh and calm things down.

But when I turned to see who had entered, a wave of fear washed over me. My body stiffened as my eyes landed on the man whose presence I had only felt once before in my living room.

It was Dwayne. His massive frame filled the doorway to the kitchen, his expression unreadable but commanding. His dark eyes locked onto Josh, and he stepped into the room with slow, deliberate movements that felt heavier than the air already thick with tension.

Joe didn't even flinch. He continued eating, seemingly unbothered by Dwayne's sudden presence. If anything, he looked more relaxed, as if he had been expecting this all along.

Josh's posture shifted slightly, his bravado faltering just enough for me to notice. He didn't speak, but his jaw clenched, and his fists tightened at his sides.

So this was why Joe had been so calm. Dwayne wasn't far away. I suddenly realized what this meant—Josh was in trouble.

Dwayne's eyes never left Josh as he moved closer to the table. His presence was dominating the room with an unspoken authority that made it clear he wasn't here for casual conversation.

"So you leave me waiting in the car?" Dwayne's voice was calm, but there was nothing calm about the weight behind his words. "You ain't doing shit he tells you to do, even if it's coming from me?"

Josh squared his shoulders, standing his ground, his jaw tight as he looked Dwayne in the eye. "I'm not taking any more orders from him."

"It was an order from ME," Dwayne yelled, his voice booming through the kitchen like a clap of thunder. The sound was so forceful that it made me jump in my seat, my heart racing.

Dwayne's gaze shifted to me, his piercing eyes locking with mine. For a moment, the intensity of his stare held me in place, making me forget to breathe.

"Ms. Fox, my apologies for startling you." he said, his tone softening slightly. A smile played on his lips, and he winked at me like this was just a casual interaction, as if his towering presence hadn't just shaken the entire room. Then, just as quickly, his attention snapped back to Josh.

"Let's talk outside." Dwayne ordered, his tone making it clear this wasn't a suggestion.

Josh didn't say a word. He glanced at me briefly, then turned and walked out of the kitchen. Dwayne lingered for just a second longer, his eyes scanning the room, his demeanor still commanding.

"Enjoy your breakfast." he said to us, his voice smoother now but no less authoritative.

Without another word, he followed Josh out, leaving the kitchen heavy with the tension he'd stirred. I exhaled shakily, the knot of anxiety in my chest refusing to loosen even as the silence settled around me. Joe, still sitting across from me, casually took another bite of his French toast, as if nothing had just happened.

"You okay?" Joe asked, his voice low, pulling me back to reality. I nodded, though I wasn't sure I meant it.

I glanced at his plate, nearly cleared of food. "I'm happy you could enjoy your food." I said, sarcastically.

He looked up at me as if he was confused. "What?"

"How could you just ignore that?" I asked, the frustration bubbling up. "Dwayne came in here, Josh is out of control, and you just... sat there eating like it's nothing."

Joe leaned back slightly, his gaze calm but unwavering. "It's not that big of a deal. Josh needed to be put in his place, talking to me like that."

"Why didn't you do anything?" I pressed. "You're usually quick to shut him down. Why let Dwayne handle it?"

He sighed, leaning forward and resting his arms on the table. "Because you're sitting here."

I frowned, confused. "What does that mean?"

He noticed the look on my face and spoke again, his tone steady. "I promised myself I wouldn't be violent around you."

I blinked, taken aback. "Why?" I asked, my voice softer now. "Not that I'm complaining or anything, but... why? I'm nothing to you. Why do you care if you're violent around me or not?"

Joe tilted his head slightly, as if considering his words. "We're trying to trust each other, right?" he began. "You've got a hard time with that because of what I did to you before. Why would I show that side of me again? I want you to see me as an ally, and I feel like showing restraint when you're around is a step in the right direction."

"Oh..." I murmured, caught off guard by the thoughtfulness of his explanation. It actually made sense, and the fact that he even considered my feelings in that way surprised me. I wasn't sure how to feel about it, but I couldn't deny that I respected it.

"Plus," he added with a slight shrug, "I don't want to give you flashbacks or PTSD or no shit like that." He waved his hand dismissively as he stood up, grabbing his plate and walking over to the sink.

I watched him rinse his plate, a strange emotion swirling inside me. This wasn't the Joe I expected, and it left me wondering if I really could trust him—or if he was just playing a deeper game.

My food was a little cold, but I felt much better now that the situation was gone. I picked up my fork and started to eat, the tension in the room finally easing.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Joe moving around the kitchen. He began washing dishes, wiping down the counters, and even cleaning the stove. It was... unexpected. I hadn't pegged him as someone who did housework—or even knew how. Then again, I didn't think he could cook either, and he'd surprised me with that too.

When I was done eating, he walked over and took my plate without a word. I watched as he carried it back to the sink, rinsing it off like he'd been in my kitchen a hundred times before. He worked efficiently, quietly, but just as I started to zone out, he looked over his shoulder at me.

"So... I'm going to put some cameras up in here..." he said, his tone casual, like he was commenting on the weather. "I told DJ about what's going on, and he said it was cool."

I froze, staring at him. "Cameras?" I asked, swallowing hard. "What for?"

He turned slightly, leaning one hip against the counter. "To keep an eye on you. You said things are getting worse with Jey, right? Cameras will give me proof if something happens—and if things escalate, I can step in."

I blinked, unsure how to respond. "Joe, I don't know how I feel about having cameras in my house. That feels... invasive."

He raised an eyebrow, setting the plate aside. "Invasive? No ma'am, it's for your safety."

I crossed my arms, unsure. "And what are you planning to do with the footage? Watch me all day?"

Joe chuckled, shaking his head. "I've got better things to do than watch your day-to-day, trust me. This is just a precaution. DJ already approved it, and honestly, it's non-negotiable."

"Dwayne knows?" I asked, my voice rising slightly.

"Kinda." Joe said, rinsing the last dish and placing it in the rack. "He's going to try to get some information out of him. It's a smart move."

"Why did you tell him?" I asked sharply, my chest tightening. A flash of anger bubbled up. "I didn't want anyone else knowing what's going on between me and Josh."

Joe turned to me, his expression softening but still firm. "I didn't tell him everything," he said calmly. "I just told him there's been tension, and you're worried about your safety. That's it."

I shook my head, still uneasy. "But now he's involved. I didn't want anyone else involved."

"He knows how to handle this without dragging you into it." Joe explained, leaning against the counter as he grabbed a towel to dry his hands. "He's not going to make this your problem. He's going to keep the heat on Josh and keep your name out of it. You don't have to worry about anything. I promise."

I stared at him for a moment, trying to gauge if I could really trust him. He seemed so certain, so in control, but that didn't erase the unease coiling in my stomach.

"What is he going to do with Josh?" I asked, my voice tinged with both concern and frustration.

Joe smirked faintly, as he regarded me with a calm, almost dismissive gaze. "Nothing for you to worry your pretty little head about." He paused, letting the tension linger for a moment, then sat down across from me. "So, I'm gonna put cameras up—and, with your permission, I want to put one in your bedroom."

"In my bedroom?" I repeated, my eyes narrowing.

He nodded, his expression serious. "Yeah. That's where you're most vulnerable. If something happens, I want it on record. It's not about invading your privacy; it's about protecting you."

I leaned back, crossing my arms as I tried to process what he was saying. "That's... a little extreme, don't you think? I mean, it's my personal space."

Joe tilted his head, his eyes steady on mine. "I get it. I do. I'm not gonna be spying on you or making you uncomfortable. I just wanna sure that if Josh does something stupid, we have evidence. Evidence that keeps you safe and makes sure he can't talk his way out of it."

I hesitated, the idea of a camera in my bedroom feeling intrusive, even if the reasoning made sense. "And who's going to have access to the footage?" I asked pointedly.

"Only me." Joe replied firmly. "No one else. Not Dwayne, not the family—just me. You have my word on that."

I studied him for a moment, searching his face for any hint of deception. He seemed earnest, but then again, Joe always seemed to know how to say the right things.

"I don't know..." I said slowly. "This feels like a lot."

Joe leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, his voice dropping to a steady calm. "Look, I'm not asking you to love the idea. I'm asking you to trust me. I'm only ten minutes away, so if anything happens, you know I'm on my way. And here..." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a phone. It wasn't his phone—it was different one. He slid it across the table toward me.

I picked it up, turning it over in my hands. "What's this for?" I asked.

"Keep that hidden." Joe said, his voice low and firm. "He can't know you have it. I want you to use it when we talk from now on—it's a secure line."

"Why?" I asked, narrowing my eyes at him.

Joe's expression darkened slightly as he leaned back in his chair. "He tapped your phone."

"What?" My voice came out sharper than I intended, the shock clear in my tone.

"I guess he's paranoid now." Joe said with a shrug, as if this revelation was no big deal. "Luckily, we haven't had too many conversations on your regular phone, but I'm almost sure he's seen the text messages. Which is another reason why I need to put cameras in here."

The weight of his words hit me hard. "He's going to be so mad." I murmured, feeling a wave of anxiety building. "Do you think he knows already?"

Joe shook his head, his calm demeanor somehow both reassuring and unsettling. "He might, but I don't know for sure. I just found this out yesterday after you left. The problem is, if something happens, I'd have no way of knowing. That's why I need your decision on the cameras—sooner rather than later."

I nodded, feeling the tension tighten in my chest. "Yeah... of course. You can set them up."

Joe's lips curved into a small, almost relieved smile. "Good. DJ is keeping him out of the house as long as possible so I can get everything installed. The issue is, he already has cameras outside, so hiring a security company is out. I'm doing it myself."

"Oh... okay." I murmured. The silence that followed was thick and awkward, stretching for a few moments as I stared down at the table, unsure of what to say. Joe seemed so composed, so sure of himself. It was a little disarming, honestly. He was taking all of this seriously—almost too seriously. A part of me wondered if this was all a lie, but based on Josh's recent behavior, it probably wasn't. Maybe I needed to put a little more trust in Joe. Maybe. But I still didn't know how to feel about all of this.

"I see you're in deep thought over there." Joe's voice broke through my thoughts, pulling me back to the moment. I looked up to see him watching me, a faint smirk on his face. He chuckled softly. "You okay?"

"Yeah... my bad." I said quickly, shaking my head. "I'm just... debating if I should tell you exactly why I texted you to do something about him."

Joe's expression shifted, his smirk fading as his eyes narrowed slightly with concern. "What happened last night?" he asked, his tone soft but steady.

I hesitated, the words catching in my throat. Finally, I took a deep breath and said, "He tried to force himself on me. I guess he thought because he apologized, I'd want to have sex with him."

Joe's jaw tightened, but he stayed quiet, waiting for me to continue.

"When I said no, he kept pushing." I said, my voice lowering as I replayed the events in my head. "I told him to stop, but he wouldn't listen at first. I... I kicked him out of my bedroom and texted you, but I was scared he'd come back."

Joe sat there for a moment, his gaze fixed on me. His silence was unnerving, and I wondered if he was angry or just trying to process what I'd told him. Finally, he reached across the table, taking my hand in his. His grip was firm, grounding, and his voice was low and resolute when he spoke.

"Aight," he said, nodding slightly. "I'll get started soon. Hazel... I promise I won't let anything happen to you. That's why I'm doing all of this."

His words settled over me like a blanket—warm and reassuring, but also heavy with the weight of what they meant. I nodded, my throat too tight to respond. Maybe I could trust him. At least for now.

*

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