“Nothing, Pop. Just kid shit.”
“You know what I think?”
I don’t, and I really don’t want to know either. There’s only one option—get the hell out of the house.
I stand and push the chair in. “I wish I could talk, but I need to check on the animals in the barn.”
My father shakes his head. “Sitdown, Tristan.”
Just like that, I’m fifteen again, not thirty-six and a grown-ass man. My father’s voice brooks no room for argument. Hemay not be running this farm, but he’s still head of the family, and I will always respect that.
Another thing my mother taught us.
“Yes, sir.”
I sit, wishing I never did in the first place.
“I think you should get your head out of your ass. Let her ride the damn horse, because I know that’s what she’s upset about, and while you’re at it, find a girlfriend and get laid. Maybe then you’d be a little nicer.”
I sit here stunned. Seriously. The last part really has me. I expected the opinion on horses—he’s never hidden that—but…what the hell?
Before I can say anything, there’s a loud banging on the door.
“Infinity Ridge Police. Open up, Tristan, I have a few questions.”
My father turns to me. “What the hell did you do this time?”
“And are you responsible for taking the horses or know who might have?” Officer Langston asks for the third time, tapping his pen on the kitchen table.
“No.”
This is absolutely ridiculous. For all we know, the Gatlins are doing this shit themselves and calling the cops to harass us.
Jimmy—whom I’ve known since we were six, who was my best man in my wedding, and who is Sadie’s godfather—sighs heavily. “Tristan, every week I’m out here because of this feud.”
“I’m aware.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose. “You act like I don’t know about the beef between your families. Who the hell else is doing this crap?”
“Ask them. Or better yet, you’re the investigator…investigate.”
Jimmy shakes his head and grabs his hat, which makes him look fucking ridiculous. “You know, if you just admit this, I’m sure they’d let it go.”
Fat chance of that. “If I were to admit to doing somethingI didn’t do”—I stress that part—“I would be an idiot, and they’d press charges, you’d arrest me, and then I’d have to kill you.”
“Considering I’ve seen you fight, I’ll take my chances.”
“You forget sixth grade,” I say, bringing up the one time I got a good one in on him. He had a black eye for a week.
“You forget high school.”
I don’t, but that wasn’t really my shining moment, so it’s not worth me mentioning. He beat the shit out of me at football practice because I made some stupid comment about his mother. It was a dick move, and I deserved everything I got. Jimmy and I are equal in height, both over six feet, but he’s got a good fifty pounds on me. Even back then, he did.
“Anyway, my point is, we’re not doing any of these things to the Gatlins. I have a ranch to run, a twelve-year-old who is driving me insane, and three sisters who are enough to drive a man to drink. Honest to God, Jimmy, when do you think I have the time to go over and move horses to another field?”
Both of his hands come up and drop as he paces in the kitchen. “Fuck if I know, but you can’t say the pieces don’t fit.”
“What do I have to gain from any of it?”
