My tongue sneaks out to dampen my dry lips. “I was trying to avoid further confrontation tonight.” I narrow my eyes on him. “But I do have a question for you. Were all three of you in the woods with me the night of the bonfire? Hunting me down? Did you ask them to help scare me before they came to my rescue like I was some damsel in distress?”
The low rumble of laughter sounds in his chest, which only serves to piss me off. “Isn’t that what you were that night?” He tilts his head to the side. The cocky look on his face infuriates me. And he hasn’t answered my question, either, but the fact that he’s avoiding it means I’m right.
I squint at him, my blood boiling my heart inside my chest. "How much of the rest of this bullshit has been you?” My exhale is ragged as hell.
“What do you mean?”
A hysterical laugh rips from my throat. “Oh, you know—Beckham, Wilder, the notes, stalking me, breaking into my room on multiple occasions, the fucking photo of my motherfuckingdeadparents?”
Royal sets my bag on the windowsill, his face having gone pale. He takes a step back, his eyes locked on me. The barest whisper leaves his lips. “Your parents aredead?”
I stare into his pale-green eyes. He might call me a little liar, but he’s the one who is full of lies and deceit. “Like you didn’t fucking know.” I bat my purse from the sill and slam the window shut with a loudbang.Royal remains on the other side, frozen in place. He exhales hard. “Echo?”
I can still hear him through the window, but I can’t take any more. Stepping out of view, my back hits the wall, and I slide down it, emotionally exhausted. He’s lost the right to ask anything of me. I’ll never forgive him now.
About ten minutes later, I crawl forward far enough to grab my bag by the strap and pull it over to me. Taking out my phone, I breathe a sigh of relief that the battery isn’t dead. I shoot my sister a quick text, hands shaking as I jab at the surface of the phone.
I’m coming home tonight.
I hope that’s okay.
THIRTY-FIVE
BECKHAM
If the entirebrotherhood knows what went down last night, I sure as fuck can’t tell. Everyone has minded their own business all day. Hungover and, more than likely, unwilling to get involved. At the very least, Davis would seem to be clueless about what transpired toward the end of the evening, which is for the best for now. But I have a feeling it won’t last long. And when he does find out what’s been going on with the three of us and his little sister, I have no doubt there will be fucking fireworks the likes of which this house has never seen. It’s going to make shit around here unbearable, because I don’t see those two coming to resolution anytime soon.
And then there’s the question that I’ve kept to myself—what the fuck kind of secrets are Davis and Echo keeping? I’d been inches from sharing what was said between them, but then Echo overheard Royal lose it with Wilder and all hell had broken loose.
I roll the question around in my head but can only really come up with curiosity as to why their family has come back to Georgia from Connecticut. If whatever happened between Echo and Royal was bad enough to make their family upend their entire life… then what prompted their return to the area?
I run my hands over my face, rolling everything over in my head, but I can’t come up with an answer, so I pick up the glass of vodka that I’ve nearly finished and throw the clear liquid back.
Last night was a huge misstep. I’m worried about my boys, for sure. Royal’s been holed up in his room, won’t say a fucking word to anyone. He’d acted really fucking weird when he got home last night. I don’t know whether he and Echo had words or if he even saw her. He didn’t come back with her purse, though, so I assume he somehow returned it to her.
Wilder’s been at the gym on campus all day and into the evening. I know he’s getting ready for his fight next week, but he and Royal are very clearly in avoidance mode. Probably not the worst idea, considering. Eventually, we’ll have to repair their relationship—that’s not a job for today, though.
More than anything, I’m concerned about Echo’s mental well-being and where she’s disappeared to—even if it’s not really any of my business. She’d probably freak if she knew I went to her window to check on her in the wee hours of the morning. My guilt-driven efforts were for nothing, though, as she wasn’t in her room. I have a feeling she went home to her family. I’d be an idiot not to assume that Royal said something to make her run.
“Got any more of that?” Wilder’s deep voice startles me from my thoughts.
My gaze darts to him as he approaches. “Yeah.” I lean forward, pouring more liquor from the bottle I’d brought outside with me, then nudge the glass toward him. He pulls out a chair and sits down with me, bracing an elbow on the table. He stares at the liquid as he rolls the glass around, then throws it back quickly as if the bottom of the glass might hold the answers he so clearly seeks.
I study him carefully, my eyes drifting over him from head to toe. He’s doing this thing where he keeps sighing, and I expect whatever he’s thinking to follow. But it doesn’t. It’s like he’s all caught up in his head. Finally, he pushes the glass toward me and gestures with his chin that I should give him a refill.
He knocks another two fingers of vodka back like it’s nothing. His eyes finally connect with mine. “Are you gonna talk about it, or is it easier to destroy your liver?” I shoot him a faint smile, tilting my head to the side.
He roughly clears his throat, his gaze wandering the backyard. There are a few people out and about but not many. “Let’s go out to the wall and sit. I—”
I glance around. Whatever he wants to say, I’m guessing he either doesn’t want to be overheard or possibly recorded. We get up and cross the lawn to the half wall at the back perimeter of Greek Row. It’s four feet high, and it doesn’t take much to hoist myself up to sit on it. Wilder simply stands there facing the woods while resting his forearms on the top of the stone. “I’m all torn up about last night. I—” He shakes his head, his lips pulling into a frown.
My brow arches. Oh, boy. He’s really disturbed, that much is obvious. Spiraling a bit, even. I lay a hand on his shoulder, and he drops his head, his eyes closing.
I wish he’d taken this to one of our rooms so I could put my arms around him. He’s not very accepting of most comforting gestures unless we’re alone. Even then, he’s weird about it most of the time. At least when we’re alone, there’s no audience to see him push me away. Perturbed by my thoughts, I refocus on Wilder, who appears to be having a meltdown.
“I should have handled things differently. The look of distress and torment and… fucking disbelief on her face. I can’t get it out of my head. It’s ripping me up from the inside out. I never meant for any of that to happen. Not like that.”
“Are we talking about her finding out or putting your dick in her?”
