Grayson
Clink. Clank. Boom!
I leap to my feet and inspect my hand. Fire licks up my fingers, over my palm, and into my forearm.
“Shit,” I grumble and give a swift kick to the perpetrator. The tractor doesn’t budge, which adds salt to the already painful wound.
I head to the shop’s sink and turn on the tap. The water is icy against the inflamed skin. I roll my hand side to side to check for swelling. Much to my dismay, there is none.
That just annoys me more.
A bruise or bulge would be satisfying, like a physical manifestation of the stress that’s built inside me all evening. I’m quietly boiling, a cauldron threatening to explode.
I knew it would be like this, though. I fucking knew it.
The fact that this exact situation, this sensation, would transpire if I crossed the line with Haley is the whole reason it hasn’t happened before. Of course, it would be one of the best days of my life. Look at her. And every day that it didn’t happen only added to the mystique, which, in turn, led to it being even more memorable when it did take place.
Because a part of me always felt like it would, no matter how hard I fought against it.
But I slipped and gave in. I didn’t back out. I let myself go to that ridiculous hike, knowing that the outcome was pretty damn decent that we hiked back out with a change in our relationship.
Now what?
I flip off the tap as if it’s to blame for my mood and grab a handful of shop towels. Either the pain in my hand has decreased or it’s taken a back seat to the riot in my head. I dry off my hand and take in the tractor. The part I was trying to remove is now essentially broken, making the matter I came to the shop at eleven at night to fix even worse.
“I should’ve just left her alone,” I grumble, my voice thick with frustration as I toss the towels in the trash can.
“Left who alone?”
I spin around to see Garret leaning against the door to the offices. I didn’t hear him come in, but it’s probably hard to hear anything over the sound of my own voice inside my head.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I ask, firing him a look to warn him that I’m in no mood for his bullshit.
He smirks. “I don’t know. Want me to tell you the truth or lie to protect your feelings?”
I let my look linger because apparently, he didn’t get the memo. Back the fuck off.
He shoves off the door, unmoved by my glare, and moseys my way. “I can tell you that I had a stack of paperwork to do—which is true. Or,” he says, stopping a few feet away from me, “I could tell you that a little birdie told me that you were seen in the parking lot by the ranger’s office with your favorite bartender.”
His voice lifts at the end, making a point—he knows I was with Haley. He’s put that fact together with the alert he got when I shut off the security system this late at the shop and concluded that something is amiss.
Fuck.
I turn away without admitting it. It’s pointless.
“I thought that was an interesting development,” he says casually. “I mean, I’ve known you had a thing for her for a while—”
“I don’t have a thing for her. Let it be.”
My heart begins to pound, and I grit my teeth.
“Cool. Awesome. Then I’ll tell you something else I heard,” he says.
“I don’t give a shit what you heard,” I say, facing the tractor as if I’m actually going to work on it again.
“Oh, I’m sure you won’t, especially since you don’t have a thing for Haley.”
He stops there, some sort of a dickish cliffhanger created to piss me off. I just hope he’s ready for pissed-off me. I shove my hands in my pockets to keep from instinctively swinging on him.
“Word has it that she and Dane McDaniels were in Cherry Pie Pizza having dinner,” he says smugly. “I guess Haley decided to start getting some personal training sessions with him, if you know what I mean. It’s created quite the buzz—”
I whirl around on my heel. The motion gets him to stop talking.
The top of my head fills with pressure, and I think it might pop off.
She was with Dane?
After today?
What the actual fuck?
My mind reels as I try to process what the hell is going on, my fists clenching against my thighs, when a hint of a smile licks against my brother’s lips.
My shoulders drop. “This is not the day to fuck with me, Garret.”
“It’s always the day to fuck with you,” he says with a grin.
I unwrap my hands slowly. Blood pours back into them.
“I hate that I have to lie to you to figure out what’s going on,” he says. “But you make it that way.”
“Or you could just mind your own business.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” He stands next to me and pretends to look at the tractor too. “I’m confused.”
“I tore off the shield, and it broke. We’ll have to order one tomorrow.”
“Not about the tractor. About you.”
I don’t answer him. I don’t think he expects me to.
“You see, if I just banged Haley—”
“Careful …”
I watch him out of the corner of my eye. He grins but still doesn’t look at me.
“I wouldn’t be all pissed off,” Garret says. “I’ll just say that.”
“There’d be no reason to.”
I blow out a breath and head to the computer. I punch some random keys, and it comes to life.
Of course, he’d not be pissed off if he hooked up with Haley. Garret’s a nice guy. He’s young and smart, and he takes after our mother—he’s built for love and marriage.
Garret would eat up family dinners and dates to Kissme Bay. He knows what to do and what to say and, more importantly, he likes that shit. He’d play games at the Holidaze Arcade and win those giant stuffed animals.
He’s great with prizes.
I am not.
My shoulder slumps, and I shift my weight to try to hide it because I don’t have the energy to stand tall again.
“I don’t poke around in your personal life much,” he says.
“Which is smart.”
I think he chuckles, but I don’t turn around to confirm it—for both our benefit.
“But I’ve been waiting for this,” he says, apparently feeling ballsy. “I’ve been waiting for the two of you to act on the thing you have between you.”
“We don’t have a thing between us. What are you? A woman?”
“If that means observant, then yes. I guess I am.”
This makes me smile and, I’m glad I’m not facing him so he doesn’t see it.
“It’s finally happened. Obviously,” he says. “And now you’re acting like someone stole your girl when it’s you who—”
“Enough,” I say, my voice booming over his. “I don’t want to talk about this.”
I can’t take it. I can’t listen to this anymore.
He squares his shoulders to mine. “And I don’t give a fuck.”
The room heats, the walls are waiting to see if we come to blows for the first time in our lives. It’s never happened—minus a few small skirmishes growing up. But Garret, Grant, and I have never physically gone at it.