“Was he your brother?”
His expression changes for a bit, and it is all I need to confirm it. They are fucking brothers.
“Wow, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. He had it coming.” he replies.
“You know, there’s something that really stuck with me from that day. I asked him something.”
“What was that?” It doesn’t sound like a question; it sounds more like a demand.
“I asked him about his ‘old lady’. It was the term he used. At that time, I didn’t understand, so I asked him if she was really old.” Rage starts to laugh while I add, “And he laughed just like that.” I wave at him, which completely erases his laughter. “I asked him if he loved her.”
“What was his answer?”
“He told me that he did. In his own way.”
Sadness.
Sorrow flows from Rage’s eyes, all over his face.
The rumbling of a distant engine interrupts our conversation.
We both turn to see Carter.
I look at Rage with surprise and he looks back at me with a smirk.
How did he know?
“What the fuck, Sarah?” Carter yells as he approaches us on his bike. He stops, jumps off and approaches me, but Rage quickly gets in his way. Carter takes the hint, and stops, but the staring contest continues.
“I think you need to calm down.” Rage is disturbingly placid.
Carter takes one more step, coming so close to him that their noses are almost touching.
“You don’t tell me to calm down, motherfucker. Got it? You think I don’t know what you’re doing? Just leave her the fuck alone or—”
“Or what?” Rage demands.
The scene looks like something out of a movie, two alpha males measuring dicks.
What would Bruno do in this situation?
“Guys,” I interject while pushing them apart, “there’s no need for this pissing contest.”
Both glare at me for a second or two, then go right back to hating each other.
“You know she belongs to Bruno. What the fuck are you trying to prove here?” Carter accuses.
“He abandoned her, remember?” Rage smiles. “She’s free to be with whomever she wants to be. Got it, pretty boy?”
Is this even real?
“I don’t give a shit. He asked me to keep an eye on her, and that’s what I’m doing. So get out of my fucking way, and let me take her home.”
“Carter,” I call to him, but he doesn’t look at me. “Carter!” This time I yell. “You asked me to move on, and that’s what I’m doing. Why won’t you let me, then?”
Rage studies me, somehow shocked because of my answer, and to be honest, I feel the same way.
