Our Love Will Never Die (Sequel to Your One and Only)

Eighteen

As she walked into the house from the supposed errand she'd gone out to run this morning, Rebel was half-regretting getting up so early and damn well in need of a nap. The only reason she'd bothered doing it, though, was 'cuz of how well she knew her husband–after a Day like their son's birthday, she knew he'd sleep in and she'd be able to slip out without him even noticing at first.

Walking into the family room, she found not Bobby letting said infant use his chest as a mattress, but Richie serving as said piece of furniture for him. Zakk was already knocked out, the young guitarist just letting him lay there as he quietly watched TV to avoid disturbing him. When he glanced up and noticed her, he just shrugged and pointed toward the back door, which earned him a nod as she realized what he was trying to tell her. Unless she was mistaken, her husband was out back for a smoke, and judging by how quiet the house was, she'd lay money on the guys being with him.

Outside, the young woman was greeted by a sight she certainly hadn't been expecting as she followed the quiet guitarist's Silent instruction. The bassist was holding Rikki back, an arm crossed over his chest from over his right shoulder while the other was wrapped around his waist, a leg wrapped around one of the drummer's. Bret was busy holding Deanna back, the other woman seemingly doing everything she could to try getting him to knock her Lights out.

Whiiii-whoooo!

Startled by the sudden shrill whistle, the entire quartet stopped what they were doing, Bobby and Bret letting go of the engaged couple they were holding back as they immediately Calmed down.

"What in the Sam fuck's going on out here?" Rebel demanded, her typical country twang sounding more like a thick, syrupy drawl as she propped her hands on her hips.

The bassist held up his hands in surrender as much as the vocalist did, both taking several steps back as they Silently said that they were staying outta it.

"He fuckin' hit me!" Deanna accused, pointing at her fiancé.

"Yeah, after ya damn near knocked me down the stairs–and with Zakk in my arms!" the older dyed-blonde shot back. "Ya fuckin' deserve that and then some, bitch!"

"Now, wait just one cotton-pickin' minute!" The younger woman suddenly saw four more shades of red than she'd already been seeing. "Ya fuckin' did what!?"

Suddenly realizing she was in a lot more trouble than she'd thought she'd be, the older woman's eyes widened as she started backing away.

"Bitch, I've never liked ya from the Day I found out he was dating ya, but I kept my mouth shut 'cuz it wasn't my place to say anything," Rebel growled, starting to stalk her like a Cat'd stalk a Mouse. "But I'll be fuckin' damned if I keep it shut–and my fists to myself–now that you've endangered my son."

Before any of them could really register what'd happened, the younger woman'd charged her and knocked her flat on her ass so she was kneeling over her and pinning her arms. One solid punch was all it took for her to be out cold, and even Bobby was surprised by just how powerful the blow was. Snapping himself outta his shock, he pulled her off the unconscious woman so she wouldn't kill her, his wife shaking him off and assuring him that she knew better than to hit her again when she couldn't fight back.

Turning to the drummer, she told him that he'd better get the bitch outta her house, or she might still End up hitting her again once she'd come to and was capable of defending herself. When her temper got riled up like this, it wasn't a good thing to keep pushing her buttons–and letting this bitch stay here any longer'd certainly do just that.