Page 23 of Firefly Embers

I wanted someone to look at me the way Stella looked at Max. The idea of coasting my fingers across bare skin, a simple touch only for us two, felt like heaven.

I wanted someone to come home to at the end of a long day and decompress with a warm shower and a stupid TV show. Someone who knew me and wouldn’t blink an eye at the long hours that training and ranching required.

I needed someone I could confide in without judgment and who would pick me up when I was feeling low. I needed my best friend.

The anger simmered beneath my skin as I listened to Max and Stella recount all the fun they had on their honeymoon. I knew I shouldn’t have been jealous; they surely deserved every ounce of happiness they had. Yet still, I felt the rage rise, as if the world was intentionally flaunting their happiness just to torment me.

“We even got to ride horses on the beach. It was a dream come true.” Stella’s wistful sigh grated on my nerves, and I didn’t bother hiding my scoff.

Max’s eyes shot over to me, and I could see the anger coursing through him that matched mine.

“You got something to say?” he spat, an eyebrow hiking up in question.

I shook my head with a sardonic chuckle, the heat from the bourbon I’d been sipping lowering my inhibitions and loosening my tongue.

“Just that it must be nice to be able to pick up, leave all your responsibilities behind, and ride off into the fucking sunset,” I huffed.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Max stood angrily, setting Stella gently beside him. She placed her hand on his chest in an effort to calm him, but if there was anything I knew about my twin, it was how to rile him up.

Maybe if he got in a good right hook, it would make him feel better and make me feel anything other than the choking anger I was currently fighting.

“Besides the fact that your wife got me shot in the back, and I lost everything in this world that’s fucking important to me? Nothing.” I spat the word “wife” with enough venom to have Stella inching backward, her eyes filling with tears.

Where I should have felt bad for making Stella upset, I just felt numb. She was the reason I was in the position I was in. She was the reason I hated waking up every single morning and every single second I closed my eyes to sleep.

If she hadn’t shown up in Firefly Cove, everything would have been different.

“Wade…” Ray’s soft voice echoed through the red-tinged haze that was my vision, her slender fingers softly gripping my forearm.

I shook her off, violently throwing my arm to the side as I pulled my wallet from my pocket and tossed a fifty-dollar bill unceremoniously on the table.

“No, it’s fine,” I spat. “I was just leaving anyway.”

I didn’t bother glancing back at the table as I stormed out of the bar, shoving the wooden door so hard it bounced against the opposite wall.

The warm and muggy air hit me like an invisible barrier, making my shirt cling to me uncomfortably. I didn’t care what people in this godforsaken town thought of me or my outburst. I honestly couldn’t give a fuck about myself, much less the court of public opinion.

Seeing as ‌I wasn’t sober enough to drive back to the ranch, ‌I edged my way down the side of the bar, resting against the coarse brick wall.

The smell of the trash in the dumpster overpowered the calming scent of the night air, and I let out a loud growl of frustration. I couldn’t even have one thing to help ground me; everything was trash. Literally and figuratively.

The door to the bar opened with a whoosh, and I could sense the impending rage before it edged into my vision.

It felt like the moment before they opened the gate for a bronc rider at a rodeo. You know you’re about to be thrown around, but you willingly put yourself on the back of that horse.

I knew riling Max up and spitting the venom I did at Stella wouldn’t end well, yet I did it anyway. Maybe it was my subconscious playing with fire, hoping to get burned.

Max stomped his way over, standing directly in front of me, his arms crossed across his chest.

“I don’t want to hear it,” I spat, not bothering to hide the hurt and anguish in my words.

“No, you’re going to stand there and fucking listen,” he spat back. “This is not her fucking fault, Wade. She didn’t hold your hand and drag your stubborn ass into that building. We went in as a family because families stick together. Or have you forgotten that while you’ve been planning the world’s most extravagant fucking pity party? Get your head out of your ass, brother, and look at the facts. The only person you get to blame here is that stupid motherfucker who pulled the trigger and shot you in the back. Not me, not God, and sure as hell not my fucking wife.”

I watched as his chest rose and fell with ragged breaths, his eyes ablaze with the fire of protection. At his core, Max was a fierce protector, and I had taken a low blow at Stella with what I had said. I wasn’t immune to the fact that what I had said would have been hurtful. I just didn’t have the capacity to care.

“Wade, we all know you’re hurting,” he said, his voice barely audible, the initial rage now replaced by a controlled fury.

“YOU DON’T KNOW SHIT,” I yelled, my fists clenching in frustration. No one could ever understand the pain I was dealing with, nor did I ever want them to experience it firsthand. It was all-consuming.