Page 21 of Branded Betrayal

“Maybe you should eat something first—” I start to say.

He whirls around, lancing me with a fire-hot glare, the glass in his hand. “Don’t fucking mother me. Don’t pretend you give a damn if I drink myself to death. It’ll be on me, not you.”

I slowly walk around the island even though his expression warns me to stay far away. “I understand why you’re so angry. I was wrong for leaving you, and I’m sorry. But we’re both hurting. We need each other, Nash.”

“You think you’re here playing house, but doing little bullshit chores ain’t gonna help this place. You don’t know how to fix things because you never gave a shit enough to stick around and learn.”

I put my hands on my hips. “Oh, and you learned so much over the years? So much that the ranch is completely underwater?”

I cringe once the words hit air. It was the wrong thing to say, but I can’t swallow them back now.

Fury flares, his lips twisting like he just tasted poison. “Don’t make assumptions about things you don’t understand, Savvie.”

“Well, instead of always being so secretive, why don’t you explain them to me? It’s like you want me to fail,” I say, frustration creeping into my voice. He’s standing right next to me, but he may as well be on the other side of the world since I can’t figure out how to break down the massive walls blocking me out. “I want to fix us, Nash. But if you don’t feel the same way, if you can’t even stand to be in the same room with me, then maybe you should just go.”

He freezes, the glass halfway to his mouth. Eyes narrowed to slits, he slams the glass down on the counter.

“This ain’t your home. No matter what she willed to you. Home is the people you turned your back on. I’m the only one left, and you ain’t welcome anymore.”

He storms out the front door, boots thumping hard along the creaky floorboards. Each angry footstep drives nails into my chest. And the farther away he gets, the less confident I feel about ever reaching him.

With a heavy heart, I grab my keys and walk to my car. I made choices that led me to this point, ones that I can’t change. I might not be able to fix everything I broke by leaving, but I can try. And it starts here, at Red Rock.

I open the windows as I head down the drive toward town. The air is so crisp and clean. The faint scent of lavender from the fields drifts over, filling my lungs and stinging my eyes. It warms my insides, making me feel closer to Aunt Marg.

But the harshness of Nash’s words and his caustic accusations weigh in my gut.

I’ve never felt so alone, so unwanted and out of place. I didn’t keep in touch with anyone after I left, so it’s not like I have a group of friends here waiting for me. I feel like a fish out of water being back here after all this time, but somehow, I need to find a way to fit back in because I have to keep our family legacy alive and in our hands.

I also need to figure out how I’m going to finance the ranch. I have close to twenty thousand dollars in savings, but without a steady paycheck, it won’t last long. Months, if I’m smart with my spending.

I tick off monthly expenses in my head as I pull up to an empty parking space. My eyes narrow on a blacked-out sedan parked directly across from me.

My God, it looks so much like the car that ran me off the road that night.

A flash of memories assaults me—screeching tires, exploding glass, the coppery taste of blood on my tongue. And then, blackness . . . cold, agonizing, and menacing.

My gut hollows, like the bottom has just dropped out. Short, sharp gasps of air become a struggle.

A horn behind me blares, jolting me from the haunted thoughts. I jump with a yelp, startled. I slide the car into the spot and then look around, my pulse hammering hard against my throat.

The sedan is gone.

I press my trembling fingers to my temples.

You’re seeing ghosts. That’s all. You’re safe.

But my body knows better. It remembers.

Chapter Eight

Blaze

Every time I tell myself to stay away, she drags me back under her spell. So even though I know I should leave this place and my past forever and tell Wilkerson to fuck off, one look at Savannah and I’m exactly where I shouldn’t be, ready to bleed for her.

Or kill, if it comes down to that.

I chomp down on the toothpick in my mouth, watching her stop outside Brixton’s General Store to talk to an older rancher’s wife named Eloise Murray. Miss Eloise and her husband have a ranch not too far from my family’s. Miss Eloise used to bake us the best chocolate chip cookies I’d ever tasted, the kind with huge chunks of chocolate—one good memory from my otherwise shitty childhood. Years later when Savvie and I started seeing each other, I’d bring them to her since she had a pretty demanding sweet tooth. We’d eat them, then fuck under the stars.