I close the door and get in Asher’s face. “Don’t be a dick. If you want to argue with me about my decisions, you may do so later, but don’t scowl at me in front of Rebekah.”
“Later?” His voice lifts. “After you’ve married that girl?”
“She’s a woman, and you owe her an apology for manhandling her and tying her to the fucking kitchen chair.”
“She was trespassing on our property,” he barks.
“She was curious and lonely. We were her only friends when she was growing up. She lost everything when we moved away. Look at how she’s been living.” I jerk my hand out to point at the dilapidated, piece-of-shit structure behind Asher. It looks like it would collapse in a stiff breeze.
“So you have some sort of savior complex, and you think you should marry her?” His teeth are gritted now as if that’s the only way he can control himself.
My brothers and I are close. We always have been. Sometimes we argue, as all brothers do, but we always work shit out, and at the end of the day, we’re a tight family. We were raised to respect each other and our differences. We have always done so, even after our parents’ passing.
I need to text the other four in our group chat, but I’ve been too busy to do so for the last few hours.
I narrow my gaze at him. “Don’t you dare lecture me, Asher. She’s mine. End of story. I’m not marrying her to save her. I’m marrying her because I feel a connection to her I’ve never felt before. I can’t help that it has happened fast. That’s just how it is. When you know, you know.”
“So date her. Or court her or whatever the fuck they call it up here in the mountains. Hold hands or some shit. Fuck her if you want to.”
I lift my hand and slap him so fast that I shock both of us.
He barely flinches, of course. We’re both built like brick walls. His cheek turns slightly pink, but it’s not as though I’ve actually injured him. I can feel the veins in my forehead bulging as I lean closer to him. “Don’t you ever fucking talk about her like that. She’s a kind and loving woman. This discussion is over. I don’t want to waste time arguing with you. I want to help her get her shit out of this fucking house and get her to the judge in town. I’m marrying her before the sun goes down. You’ll have to get over yourself.”
At the sound of an approaching vehicle, I wheel around, expecting to find Sharp pulling up the dirt road. But it’s not Sharp. It’s Adrian. His truck, anyway. I see that Andrew, our oldest brother, is with him. Great.
As soon as they join us, Asher goes at it again. “Do you know what this asshole is planning?”
Behind me, a door slams, and I twist to find Rebekah stomping around the front of the truck. She looks fit to kill. She has her hands fisted at her sides, and her face is red.
“Stop it,” she shouts. “Stop fighting. I’m right here. If you have something to say, say it to my face.”
There’s my feisty girl, the one who was fired up earlier because Asher tied her to a chair.
Asher holds both hands up in defeat, taking a step back. It’s almost comical since she’s a tiny sprite of a woman and he’s gigantic. If she charged him and shoved him hard, her hands would land at his waist, and he wouldn’t even wobble.
“What’s going on?” Adrian asks. He turns toward my girl. “Hey, Rebekah. It’s good to see you. I see you’re still the same firecracker you were a decade ago.” He’s teasing, but not in a mean way.
“Tell them,” Asher demands.
I glare at him and face my brothers. I have no doubt that Asher asked them to join us here because he thought he could get them to talk some sense into me. I’ve got news for my brothers. This is the most sensible idea I’ve ever had, and nothing they say is going to change my mind.
“Rebekah and I are getting married.” I reach out a hand and beckon her forward.
She comes to me and flattens herself to my side.
My heart is full as I spread my hand on her back protectively.
Andrew smirks. “You don’t say.”
Adrian shrugs. “Not surprised. She was sweet on you even when she was a lanky kid. I always figured you two would get hitched.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Asher bellows. “Does anyone have a working brain cell?”
“Enough,” I growl. “This conversation is over.” I look down at Rebekah and guide her toward the house. I don’t want to be here one minute longer than necessary.
The moment we step inside, I want to punch something or someone. It’s not dirty. It’s clean and tidy. As clean as it can be without proper supplies. It’s just sparse and everything is worn. Most of the contents need to be in the dump, including the house itself. It creaks. I fear it might actually fall in. Perhaps the foundation isn’t stable.
“I’m sorry,” Rebekah murmurs.
