Текст книги "Losing Her "
Автор книги: Mariah Dietz
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Текущая страница: 16 (всего у книги 19 страниц)
Slinking back into the crowd, I finish my beer and then try to be invisible as I watch everyone around me acting crazy and loud. I stay sober for the first time in months and silently pray Landon hasn’t had to deal with me acting like one of these morons.
Since I’m not nursing a hangover this morning, I spend most of my time out in the yard, mowing and the weed whacking. I continue my lawn maintenance by spraying a layer of fertilizer over it before my dad appears.
“You should have hollered. I would’ve been happy to help.”
I hadn’t even noticed he wasn’t here.
“That’s alright. I think I can handle mowing my own lawn.”
He nods a couple of times and then looks over my work. “Landon invited me to go with you boys to watch a game this evening. I don’t want to force you to accept me back into your life, Max. I’m sure that having me back is confusing. You don’t trust me, you don’t have any reason to, but I’d like to be back in your life. I want to stay, and be with you boys, and my grandkids.”
In the time he’s been back, I’ve been too selfish to even consider my brothers and what their feelings are on this matter. Both of them have attempted to reach out to me on several accounts and I’ve ignored them, positive they were calling to harass me about Erin.
“Have you contacted them yet?”
He nods once. “I’ve seen Hank a few times. He’s considering letting me meet the boys. Billy won’t talk to me yet. I don’t blame him. He was at a hard age to lose his father.”
“A hard age?” My voice is raised, filled with contempt, as my eyes flash to him. I haven’t hardly spoken to my dad, let alone discuss why in the hell he left, or why he’s returned.
“I know it was hard on all of you—”
“How in the hell would you know? You weren’t around.” My voice grows with each word.
“I want to make things right, Max. I’m here and I’m not going anywhere. The ball is in your court, Son.”
“You don’t just get to walk back into my life after all this time and be my dad. It doesn’t work like that!”
“I’m never going to be your dad if you continue to push me away.” His voice remains calm, something that I don’t recall him being able to do previously. “Your mom says—”
My head rears back and my entire face creases with confusion. “You’ve talked to Mom?” My tone is accusing; I’m sure my eyes are as well.
“I spoke to her before I contacted any of you boys. She deserved that.”
“Do whatever in the hell you want.” I drop the hose without bothering to put it away and make my way inside. I wash off the layer of green from my hands and arms, along with the stench of gasoline, and flick my phone on and call my mom.
I have no idea what anyone thinks of my dad staying with us. Since I didn’t invite him to stay, I can’t say that I really care. But that’s a lie, I sort of do care, and I don’t know why. I don’t know what to say to him or how to act. I haven’t seen the guy in thirteen years. That’s more than half of my life.
I miss having my bike for these trips to my mom’s. I don’t remember my thoughts ever being this loud on it.
I try not to look at the Bosses’ as I drive up, but it’s nearly impossible with it being next door. I didn’t bring Zeus with me this time, Landon had said he wanted to go running with him, another thing that I’m starting to feel guilty for. He’s been running Zeus nearly every day while I continue to go through life’s daily motions.
Before I can knock, the door swings open. My mom stands before me with a smile that I’m tired of being on the receiving end of. It’s filled with love, kindness, and sympathy, and right now I don’t want to see any of that. I want to be angry with her because she didn’t give me a fucking heads-up that my dad was coming.
“Hi, sweetheart. Is Zeus with you?” she asks, wrapping her arms around my neck and pulling me so I have to bend at the waist to hug her.
“No, he’s at the house,” I reply, warring with myself on what emotion to feel right now.
“You’re mad at me.” Her tone is full of understanding as she pulls away from me and carefully studies my face.
My hand travels over my hair a few times as I let out a deep breath. “Why in the hell didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I wanted you to have the opportunity to make a decision about your father without having to take me into account.” She looks at me for a moment and then nods her head toward the dining room.
She takes a seat and slides a plate of brownies to me. The brownies confirm that she’s feeling guilty. My mom hates baking.
“I knew that this was going to be really hard on you, and you’ve had so much happen this year, I didn’t want you to have to consider my feelings about this. I was hoping that if your father came and spoke to you, you wouldn’t be thinking of the past and the bad times. I wanted you to be able to see who he is now, and make a decision based upon your needs.”
I pick up a brownie and take a bite. I don’t know how to reply and need a few moments to mull it over.
“I hope you know I would never be upset with you for wanting to have a relationship with him, but I won’t be disappointed with you or judge you if you decide that you don’t want to either. It’s completely your choice.”
“How could you think I wouldn’t consider you, or the shit he put us through?”
“I don’t. There’s no way for you to not have that as a part of your consideration, but I don’t want that to be your only factor. You spent so much time and energy looking for him, Max, and now you have a chance to ask him whatever questions you’d been searching for.”
“How can you be okay with him being back here?”
My mom’s eyes fill with a wave of questions and hesitancy. “Max, if you didn’t want to find him, why were you looking for him?”
“I stopped looking.”
“Because you couldn’t find him or because you realized the answers don’t matter?”
“I don’t want him around. He’s just going to fuck things up again. Love fucks everything up.”
Her lips press together and her eyes dance across the table. “Max, of all the things you learned this year, I’m pretty certain you learned love is not a bad thing.”
“Are you kidding? Forget about her. Do you remember what dad did? All of the fights, the drinking, the gambling, the nights that he never came home and the ones that he did, beat up, and reeking of booze, cigarettes, and cheap shits? He made you weak, Mom. Love makes people weak!”
“Loving someone doesn’t make you weak, Max. Ace didn’t make you weak.” Her head tilts and she reaches across the table, folding a hand over mine. My mom’s hands have always felt like she spends her time in a refrigerator or out on a fishing boat in Alaska. They’re always cold, and the temperature difference brings a myriad of memories of her comforting me over the years and breaks the aggression that was ready to pull me under. “Loving someone makes you stronger.” My hand pulls away from hers, sliding into my lap as my attention moves to the patio door and my head shakes. “Max, if I didn’t have you boys when your dad left, I’d probably still be in that old bedroom, wearing his shirt and crying. Loving you and your brothers gave me the strength to move forward, to see the good in the world again.
“I’d always known your father and I had a dysfunctional relationship. He couldn’t say no to anything; moderation was never something he was good at. If he did something, he was all in.” Her hand wraps around my other hand still resting on the table, and her fingers press gently into my flesh until I look up and meet her blue eyes that are wide, swimming with emotion. “Max, you aren’t anything like your father was, you have drive, but you know your limitations. He never did. Loving someone is the bravest thing a person can do, sweetheart. You’re putting yourself out there for someone to potentially reject you.”
I scoff and repeat the word reject as I pull away from her touch once again and rub my hand over my face.
“She never rejected you, Max. I know it feels like she did, but I think we both know if your heart really thought she’d rejected you, you wouldn’t have such a hard time getting her out of your mind, or your heart. It took me two months of crying and living in a dark place to realize that I was better off without your father. I know it seemed longer to you, but the months following that, I was mad at myself for allowing things to have gone on as long as they had. It’s been eight months since she left, and you’re still working to convince yourself.”
Before I can object she continues. “My biggest fear and regret was not getting out of the marriage sooner. I never wanted you boys to think that what your father and I had was a healthy relationship. That’s why I was so afraid of Molly when Billy introduced me to her. They’re both hot and cold people, and when that happens the hots are really great and high, and the colds are like arctic winds. You have to be able to have some middle ground, otherwise you’ll be burnt and have frostbite, and never be able to find comfort.” Her eyes remain on me though she doesn’t make another attempt to reach out and touch me. I think she knows I can’t handle affection right now while hearing her words and processing the stirring thoughts of her.
“I hope they find it, I do. And who knows, maybe they will. Neither of them seems willing to give up, and that’s a good sign. It’s your life, Max, and I will support you and whatever decision you make. I love you, and I believe in you. However, I hope that the fear of becoming weak or losing someone is not what fuels your decision, because if you go back to only dating people you know you can’t ever love, I’m going to make Billy teach me how to punch, and then I’ll try resorting to a form of communication you’ve always seemed to understand a little more clearly.”
She punches her fist into her hand with her thumb tucked, ensuring me she has no idea what she’s doing. I can’t help but laugh as I shake my head and reach for another brownie.
“What’s this?” I know by where Erin’s stroking my finger that she’s finally asking about my tattoo. I’m guessing she’s seen it before. Although it’s fairly small, we’ve spent enough time together I don’t know how she could’ve missed it.
“It’s nothing,” I reply, rolling over and getting out of bed.
“It’s just a question, Max.”
“And I gave you an answer.” I pull on a pair of gym shorts littering my floor and head toward the door. “I need something to drink. You want anything?”
She shakes her head, looking slightly defeated. Then a sly smile creeps across her lips. “I can think of a few things I need when you get back, though.” Her eyes fall to my shorts, and I swallow back the smart-assed remarks that flood my mind. I turn, and close the door behind me without another word. Kendall and Jameson are sitting at the island in the kitchen, quietly talking. Their conversation ceases as I enter, giving me a pretty good clue that they’re either discussing me or her.
“Hey, are you hungry? We went to Antonio’s.” Kendall gestures to a box at the end of the counter.
The word no forms on my tongue as I nod my head. I can’t go back upstairs right now. I think if I have to see her, touch her, or hear her, I’ll lose what’s left of my mind.
“What’d you guys do tonight?”
“I just got off work like an hour ago,” Jameson replies.
I glance at the microwave to see it’s after ten and then back to him.
He stretches his upper body across the counter. “This being an adult thing sucks ass.”
“No kidding, maybe I should go back to school and get a new major. I’m done with working,” Kendall adds. “Granted, I really don’t miss tests, or droning professors, or my thesis.”
“Yeah but at least you didn’t have to work weekends,” Jameson rebuts.
“No, but there were a lot of weekends we spent studying.” Kendall sounds nostalgic as her blue eyes look across the room at nothing.
“I still find the occasional Anatomy flashcard in the most random places,” I admit.
Kendall looks taken aback at me mentioning something that has to do with her, but Jameson starts laughing.
“I found one under the bag of flour in the pantry last week.”
“What were you making that you used flour?” Kendall’s eyes narrow with disbelief.
“Nothing. I’d spilled cereal all over the damn place. That shit should be called messy charms.” She dips her head back and laughs, as do I, at Jameson’s expression.
“What card was it?” Kendall asks as her laughs die down.
“Something I couldn’t pronounce.”
“Not the Maximus?” She begins laughing at her own joke as Jameson grins. I feel the stretch across my own face and don’t try to stop it or conceal it.
I open the pizza box and survey the contents. Ace always ordered the same thing: barbecue sauce with chicken, pineapple, and jalapenos. This pizza is covered in cheese, meats, and vegetables, but something about the spice or perhaps the fact that we just mentioned her, brings more memories to the forefront of my mind, and I’m so exhausted with fighting them back, I don’t even attempt to as I sit back and feel her run through me like an old familiar tune. I can hear her, see her, and feel her.
For spring break my brothers plan a trip to visit me. I don’t know if this is another thing our mom’s orchestrated, or possibly Hank since Billy’s still refusing to see our dad. Though Hank has now met with him on three separate occasions.
“Hey what happened to Westminster Dumbass? Mom said he was like living here,” Hank says, looking around the empty living room. Neither of them have been here before, which seems strange to me. Then again, it’s really only been a couple of years now that we’ve begun transitioning from beating the shit out of each other to whatever it is that we’ve become.
I don’t know how my mom would’ve known about Wes, but it’s true. This fall and for most of the winter he had practically turned our living room into a hotel room. I should have asked if everything was okay, if his roommate Xavier was causing problems. Xavier had played baseball with Wes for years, but the dude could be a world-class asshole and is the messiest person I know. I didn’t though. I’ve been too consumed with all of my own issues this year. I still haven’t seen him since he threw the porn movies at me and told me he’d at one time felt something for Ace and then left.
My fingers run over my hair as I look to Billy, who has always loved dishing shit out about Wes, even when Wes isn’t around to hear it. Billy’s eyes skirt around the living room, oblivious to our current conversation. I look to Hank who gives me a tight smile and then clears his throat. “Is Dad around?”
“No, he’s gone for the week,” I assure them. This had been a prerequisite from Billy in order to come. Though I’m curious to know his feelings on it, I don’t ask. I could probably ask Hank and he’d tell me, but aside from our brief conversation at Thanksgiving, Billy and I still have need-to-know, sports, and did-Mom-tell-you kind of conversations. This seems like skipping too far, too fast.
Billy’s body visibly relaxes and then constricts again when the door opens. He turns to watch as Landon walks in with Zeus.
“Hey, how was your guys’ trip over?” Landon asks, releasing Zeus from his leash. He walks over to where we’re still standing in front of the furniture, none of us relaxed enough to sit yet.
“Thankfully short. We were on a plane filled with a college basketball team. Damn, were they loud.”
“Have you been to your house before?” Billy asks, lifting an eyebrow over his green eyes.
Hank laughs, likely realizing the irony when his four sons can make a concert seem quiet. “How are you, Landon?” Hank asks.
It’s strange for me to watch my brothers interact with either Jameson or Landon. I’m so close to the both of them that it seems like my brothers should know them as extensively as I do, but they’re still practically strangers and it’s apparent as they remain cordial and discuss crap that doesn’t matter, like the weather.
“You want to help me out tonight, show off your skills with the barbecue?” Landon’s eyes sweep to me like I’ve just announced news worthy of a shocked reaction, and it makes me feel a little more shitty. Other than the comment after the porn videos, Landon’s been here through all of this, not wavering or yelling at me for my crappy moods. He hasn’t said anything about Erin. He’d even been the one that gathered up the movies and tossed them in the trash.
“I, uh … um, I figured I’d clear out tonight, let you guys have space, but yeah, I’ll hang out and grill.”
I clasp a hand to his shoulder and squeeze my fingers, hoping he senses my appreciation.
“Is this your new brofriend? What happened to Wes?” Billy teases, escaping the cordialness.
He really hadn’t been paying attention, and it’s on the tip of my tongue to ask him where in the hell he’d been, but I know where he’s been. I’ve been there for the last few weeks too.
Landon turns stoic. It’s an art that I’m pretty sure war perfected for him. My eyes turn from him to Billy, and his eyes narrow.
“What in the hell’d you do?” Billy accuses.
“Noth—”
“Don’t nothing me, you lying bastard. Wes finally got tired of you acting like a dildo, huh?”
“Dude, shut up.” Hank punches him in the arm, but his voice lacks all conviction. He’s right, I have been a dick.
Kendall and Jameson arrive home from work separately, both looking a bit rattled, but seem to relax as the evening wears on and alcohol begins to be distributed along with stories.
They begin one of my brothers and me from when we were kids and raided our dad’s liquor and stole shots of his bourbon. We all got sick off of it and then got grounded for a month.
More memories are shared, and as the night wears on, laughing becomes a little easier for the first time in over nine months.
Two weeks later my dad approaches me. He’s just returned from a weekend visit to Arizona, where he was granted the opportunity to meet Hank and Sarah’s four boys.
“Why don’t we all go get a drink tonight? Bolts are playing. No discussions, just drinking and football.” He studies me for a long moment, and for a second I see Hank.
“I don’t want to hear about Arizona.”
He nods a couple of times, seemingly understanding that Arizona encompasses pretty much everything.
Jameson, Landon, my dad, and I fill Landon’s rig and we head to a sports bar at the far end of town.
We take a seat at one of the only available tables, and are immediately greeted by a waitress that makes it clear she’s not here to flirt as she acknowledges each of our orders with a nod before disappearing. Most of the TVs are already turned to the pre-game where the announcers are discussing other teams in the conference, which has both Landon and Jameson intrigued since neither of them have converted to Bolts’ fans.
Jameson starts defending the Seahawks a little too loudly, attracting some attention from a nearby table, filled with die-hard Bolts’ fans. They turn to tell Jameson to shut up and eye the four of us. Resituating in their seats, they quietly huff to each other and I feel the corner of my mouth curl in a smile before I lift my glass of whiskey to wash it away.
“If you get us in a fight over a team that’s not even playing tonight, you’re picking up the tab,” Landon says, taking a long pull from his beer.
We sit together with a strained feeling hanging between us as Landon and Jameson try to make small talk that incorporates both my dad, who participates too easily, and me. I occasionally add a short response but keep my attention on the TVs.
“Shit, isn’t that the dude from that party we went to last summer?”
I slowly turn to look over my shoulder at the noises I’ve been struggling to ignore for a while now, knowing that if I turn my attention and see fighting with all of the tension I have in me, I’ll be over there, beating the hell out of some nameless face in an attempt to soothe the living beast of anger and aggression that I seem to constantly battle.
My eyes focus on Pedro’s face. His eyes are slits of rage, and his mouth is pursed, showing how tightly clenched his jaw is. I notice the strain in his arms that are filled with blood and adrenaline, ready for a fight. He’s struggling against someone that’s on the losing end of the battle, and I can’t tell if Pedro knows him or not. He seems nearly oblivious of the poor bastard. My eyes scan the rest of the scene, taking in a few guys that I recognize, and more that I don’t, until I get to Nathan Hudson. The sole focus of Pedro’s hatred seems to fall to him, struggling against two guys that we’d gone to school with.
“Shit!” I hear Landon growl and see the back of him and Jameson as they lunge toward the brawl. Nathan Hudson jumps Pedro, a matching expression of loathing across his face.
“You waitin’ for an invitation?”
I look over to see my dad looking at me with a brow raised over the glass of iced tea he holds to his lips. He gave the entire table a brief explanation after placing his order that he doesn’t drink anymore, something I didn’t know, but strangely feel relieved about.
“I don’t—” my objection falls flat as I see a punch land on Jameson’s face, catching him off guard. He falls with a heavy thud.
“Shit,” I mutter, pushing away from the table. I don’t hesitate slamming my fist into his assailant’s face without warning and am rewarded with hearing the satisfying thwack that my knuckles make against his flesh.
“What the fuck?” someone yells in objection.
I don’t stop. My fist connects with several more faces and ribcages that I don’t even take the time to look at before things begin to slow down. Pedro takes the distraction that I’ve caused and throws himself toward Nathan that was at some point separated from him. I grab him by the shoulders and hold him back as Nathan mutters about how Pedro has lost his mind and doesn’t know what the fuck happened.
I don’t give two shits about what happened and am ready to punch Pedro as well to get him to calm down when he turns his anger filled eyes to me.
“What the fuck? Get off me, Miller! Just because she left your sorry ass, you think it’s okay what he did to her? He tried to rape her!”
I don’t know what courses through me. It’s so consuming, it overpowers my ability to think straight as his words hit me again and again like a physical attack.
I don’t hear or see anything. Not the satisfying crunch of flesh, not even the blood that’s now covering me, but at some point I realize I’m being pulled away and feel my body react to it. I struggle to get free from the grip on my arms as another goes around my neck, and then I hear Pedro repeating that he thought I knew.
I never knew. How much had I never known?
I get shoved outside and into Landon’s SUV before I can stop it. My mind’s far too warbled to be able to object to the chain of events as thought after thought rains on my brain. Is that why she had stayed a virgin so long? What had he done to her? Did he cause part of her strange issues about attachment and the future? Did he hurt her? When in the hell did it happen?
The ride home is filled with silent thoughts. I can hear their minds shouting the same questions mine is.
When we pull into the driveway I break the trance. “I need Kendall to call her.”
Jameson turns in his seat beside me and stares at me blankly, as if he’s trying to make sense of my simple words.
“Find out what in the hell happened!” I demand.
“Dude, they just started getting to where—”
“I need to know if he touched her! I need to know what happened!” I watch Jameson’s jaw clench as my words come out in a yell.
Finally he nods and turns away.
That night I sit outside with my phone off so I don’t receive messages or calls from Erin. I can’t see her right now, not when every single one of my thoughts and emotions is working to dissect every interaction with her. How did I not know this? Why hadn’t she told me? If I had known this, there is no way in hell I would have ever been okay with her staying at the apartment. Then again, neither would her parents, or Kendall. How in the hell does Pedro know about what happened, and the rest of us are in the dark?
“Hey, Son.” He doesn’t wait for me to reply, probably because he knows I won’t. His footsteps approach me on the patio and he takes a seat, causing Zeus’s tail to loudly thump in anticipation.
“You want to talk about it?”
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
“Seems to me there’s mountain loads to talk about.”
“She left.” My admission is met with silence that I allow to fill the space between us for a long while, assuming that this advice thing is as new to him as it is to me. For some reason I continue. Maybe it’s the alcohol, or maybe if I go back to trying to be honest with myself, I’ll realize that if I hold these words inside of me any longer, I’ll combust. “I loved her and she left. Maybe I wasn’t enough. Maybe I’ll never be enough.” I’ve been thinking these words since before we even got together.
“We had a fight. Her best friend got married, and Kendall was planning on moving in with us. The suggestion that she move in was brought up, and she freaked out. She snuck out of bed, packed a bunch of shit up, and went back to her apartment without saying anything. I was so pissed. How do you go from all in to pulling all the way back like that? I don’t get it! I was so …” I shake my head, trying to find the right word.
“Scared. You were scared, Son.”
“I was shitting my pants scared,” I admit.
I sit in silence, soaking up my acknowledgment. For some reason admitting this fact seems to relieve me of something, and makes my chest feel less constricted. I take a deep breath, letting the silence calm my emotions.
“Then her dad died and all hell broke loose. She completely changed. She pushed everyone away. She couldn’t stand for people to touch her or be around her. She just hid out all the time, biding her time until she finally told us she was leaving. She’d planned it all. She sold her shit, she broke her lease, she transferred schools. She did it all without saying a fucking word about it. Then, she left.”
“It sounds like she’s scared too.”
“How did she not tell me someone hurt her like that? I don’t even know when it happened? Or what happened.”
“If what’s going on in there is any indication, I don’t think many did.”
I don’t know if someone else has filled him in that she’s Kendall’s sister, or if the pieces are just falling into place. Regardless, his words tell me that Kendall apparently hadn’t known and is losing her shit as well. I glance over my shoulder to the glass slider as though I’ll be able to hear or see something. When I don’t, I slowly nod. The realization that Kendall hadn’t known relieves a small sliver of my pain and enlarges another mass as I wonder why in the hell Pedro knew. Why didn’t she confide in Kendall?
“We all have reasons for the secrets we keep. They’re not always good ones, but they’re reasons all the same.”
I take a deep breath and try to fight formulating more questions about her and what else she never told me.
I can’t seem to lose the shadow that’s been trailing me all evening. I need to settle this. I won’t be able to sleep if I don’t. I head upstairs and grab my keys and am halfway down the stairs when Landon and Jameson appear, staring at me expectantly.
“No,” Landon says, shaking his head and raising his arm to point back toward my room.
I ignore them and continue down as Jameson braces himself in the doorway.
“You can’t go after him right now, dude. You’re too pissed. You can’t even see straight. You won’t be able to stop.”
“I DON’T WANT TO STOP!” I yell in Jameson’s face.
He flinches as my temper boils over but quickly regains his composure, standing straighter so that he’s nearly as tall as I am. “Dude, you already did damage. If you go back over there now and seek him out, that would be a whole mess of charges on you: trespassing, premeditation, assault. The list goes on and on. You’re not going out there,” he warns.
I hesitate long enough for Landon to add, “You don’t want to do this, man, because if you go, we go too.”
“You’re freaking out because you’re wondering if this is part of why she left. I understand.” Kendall’s voice is thick with tears. She sniffles as she takes in another labored gasp from somewhere behind me. “I hate him too. I’ve never hated someone so much in my entire life.” I catch a glimpse of her as she steps toward me and see the tears streaming down her face.
“She never told me either, and I’m really, really …” She takes another deep breath as her tears fall. They’re coming so fast they’re not even rolling, just falling from her lashes to her shirt and the floor. I’ve seen way too many tears in the last year to notice the difference. “I’m really mad at her. She should have told us. She should have pressed charges. She should never have hid it.”
I avoid everyone, especially Erin, for a couple of days until Jameson knocks on my door, and I know by his bleak expression that his news is going to piss me off.
“She won’t talk to her about it. She won’t tell Kendall.”
My eyes narrow, feeling the anger building inside of me like a storm, causing my muscles to clench. I shrug past him, taking the stairs two and three at a time, going directly to Jameson’s room and pushing the door open hard enough it would probably swing back at me if I hadn’t raised my hand in anticipation.
“What in the hell, Max?” Kendall shrieks.
“What do you mean she won’t talk to you about it?”
“She. Won’t. Talk. About. It. Similar to how you refuse to discuss her. This should be familiar to you.”
I don’t have the patience to deal with Kendall. If she were a guy, I’d break her nose right about now, but since that isn’t an option I just yell louder.
“You talked her into TPing a house, getting a tattoo, going on a cruise, and coming home for Christmas. FIND OUT!”
“Believe me, I want to know too! I don’t even know when it happened! Imagine how I feel!”
“If you wanted to know, you’d find out!”
“She won’t answer my calls, you jack ass! She’s shutting me out because she doesn’t want to talk about it.”
“Back off.” Landon’s hand slams into my chest.
The unexpected pressure forces me to step away from Kendall. I’m sure he knows me well enough to discern I’d never touch her, certainly never hit her, and it pisses me off that he’s intervening. This isn’t his place.
