Cain tilts his head and looks at Cat. “Little lady, good luck with this weak, no good, piece of?—”
Cateline holds up her hands. “That’s enough.”
“Oh, she speaks?” Cain’s voice is oily, taunting, a piece of bait to take because he is always fixing for a fight.
“Yes,shespeaks andshehas a name. I am Cateline Berghier and you will speak to me with respect.”
“Or what?” Cain breathes.
I stiffen, ready to tackle.
“A little thing like you going to come after me?” he asks.
Even though birds chirp outside, the room is dead silent.
“No, Mr. Wolfe. I will carry on with my life and I will pray for you.”
Cain’s forehead wrinkles with confusion, as if that wasn’t what he expected to hear. “I don’t need your prayers.” But the words are hollow.
“Sure you do. You have the mouth of the enemy.” Those simple words are like a slap on the face and to add insult to injury, she continues. “You are a bully. A sad, pathetic man who thinks he needs to use his might to prove his worth. You may not see it, but the rest of us see it clearly and because of that, you will never receive the honor you so desperately crave.”
Cain looks like he’s going to float upstream or spit wasps, I can’t tell. “You don’t know a thing about me.”
“I know enough, and the solution to your trouble, sir, is to wipe the mud off your face and look around. You live in a beautiful place, have an amazing brother, and are about to get married. Instead, you’re stomping mad like the world owes you. I promise, it does not.”
“And there’s no arguing with that,” I mutter.
But Cateline is not done. “You could try to have a relationship with your brother, a generous, talented, and intelligent man. A man I am proud to call my fiancé.”
No stage. No lights. But mic drop.
More silence follows, especially from me.
Cateline turns, says a long string of words in French, and starts toward the door. “Connor. Let’s leave this wretched place.”
I take a long look at Cain. Where I’d once seen an intimidating, demanding, and intense man, the truth starts to take shape in the wake of Cateline’s comments.
My brother is a vulgar, sad, and lonely bully who is hiding pain of his own and has always taken it out on me.
I exhale through my nose. How had Cateline seen that in less than five minutes? I’d endured eighteen years, plus one week every year when we do the survivalist challenge with him, because it seemed like the right thing to do. I was terrified of his wrath, when really it’s a mask for something else. An emptiness he doesn’t know how to fill.
“I see she’s got you trained up good. Go on then, go like the dog on a leash that you are. It’s your life,” Cain hollers.
“That’s right. It is my life and it’s a darn good one.” Retorts, snappy comebacks, and words Cateline would scold me for using rise to my tongue, but I don’t take the bait and keep my mouth shut.
Cain’s mocking and menacing laugh goes silent as I exit the cabin. I watch my back, but the attack I expect doesn’t come.
Cateline stands by the Jeep, looking like pure sunshine on an otherwise cloudy day. The tension in my muscles dissolves.
“Was this some kind of follow-up prank?” she asks.
“No, that’s still coming.” I’m joking, mostly. Gesturing around, I say, “This was my life until I was eighteen. It took another decade, me showing my backside to the world, and being sent to reform school to meet you, and then come all the way back here to see the truth. Thank you, Cateline. I mean that.”
“Thank you for what?” Her brows knit together.
“For unraveling that—” I motion toward the cabin.
“I don’t understand.”
