Cal stormed in the opposite direction of Landon and Aly, spotting Sam pulling out of her parking spot, so he strode toward her car.And he didn’t move out of the way, just walked right toward the car now moving toward him so Sam had to hit the brake a little hard.
For a second, he just stood there.Dangerous thoughts whirling in his head.Maybe it was a positive sign he knew not to engage with them.Butpositivedidn’t fix the boiling, violentthingerupting inside of him.
He marched to the back door, flung himself inside the car.“Drop me off at my car.”
“Well, gee, Cal, last time I checked I wasn’t your chauffeur to be ordered around.Apleasewouldn’t go astray.”
He could feel her gaze in the rearview mirror.“Then what exactlyareyou, Sam?Nancy Drew?Sticking her fucking nose where it doesn’t belong?”
Nate turned around in his seat.His gaze was hard.“If you got in here to take your shitty attitude out on us instead of Landon and Aly, why don’t you walk to your fucking car?”
“Yeah, why don’t I?”He shoved right back out.
Into the inky darkness.Into the frozen fucking winter.Away from everything swirling inside of him—some tsunami of grief and fear that was coming out of him one way or another.
But he walked through the night and the frigid icy wind for about thirty seconds before he heard footsteps behind him.
“Get back in the fucking car,” Nate growled.
Cal didn’t bother to say no.But when Nate grabbed him by the arm, he rounded on him.He’d held it in against Landon, but there was no holding back now.
Nate dodged the swing with ease, which somehow had the fury spiking even higher.
“Going to take a lot more than that to land one on me, asshole,” Nate said.
All calm and detached like the fucking soldier he was.
“Fight back.We’ll see.”
Nate didn’t take a swing, but Cal could see his hands clench into his fists at his sides.Cal wanted it.Sure, the gunshot wound still hurt, but he wouldn’t mind a new ache.Maybe Nate could break his nose.Knock out a tooth.
God knew his baby brothercould.There was a leashed violence in the man in front of him, and Cal felt the pounding, desperate need to make it explode.So, he stepped forward, his own fists clenched and raised.Maybe he could break his hand on Nate’s hard jaw.
“Cal.Nate.Enough.”Sam’s command was sharp.Disapproving.
An old memory of his mother chastising them for fighting wanted to resurface.He wouldn’t let it.
“You’re making a goddamn scene,” she said, completely disgusted.
A scene.Cal glanced around them.The lot was mostly dark, small circles of light from the parking lights illuminating a person here, a couple there.
Watching.
Cal dropped his hands, embarrassment washing in all the places anger leaked out of.He might have ridden that anger, but something about Sam, thisoutsider, watching it, admonishing him for it.Something about making ascenepeople would talk about…
Something about memories of his mother flirting at the edges of his consciousness just made him feel like a tool.
“Get in the car.Now,” Sam ordered.“Both of you.”
“You can drop—”
“I’m not dropping you off at your fucking car, Cal.I’m driving you to the ranch.And if you say another damn word, I’ll have your car towed so it takes even longer to get it.”
He wanted to fight, to argue, but he could hear the murmur of voices.He heard a young woman ask whoever she was standing next to if she should call the police.
Yeah, he was making a scene, and for fucking what?
So, he got back into the car and rode in complete and utter silence back home.
