Wade
I don’t know what was pissing me off more, the fact that my brother and his new wife couldn’t be bothered to stop mauling each other for five seconds, or that Ray had bent her tiny ass over the bar top and damn near flashed everyone her lacy red panties.
Not that I was looking. If one thing was certain, neither of those situations was helping my mood.
I sipped my bourbon, making every valiant effort to keep my eyes from drifting to the swell of Ray’s tits that were nearly falling out of her dress each time she leaned forward to laugh at something Stella or Max said.
It was as if the dress that was expertly painted on her body was done with the intention of sending me to an early grave.
“So, tell us about the honeymoon!” Ray crooned with a wistful sigh, her cheek resting dreamily against her hand.
“It was so nice,” Stella remarked, gazing longingly back at my brother.
I took another sip of my drink, fighting down the current of emotion that threatened to make its way up my throat. Watching them make heart eyes at each other was almost enough to make me sick.
“We did a lot of relaxing on the beach. Charlie hadn’t ever seen the ocean, so it was nice to be able to experience that as a family.”
Max twirled one of Stella’s blonde locks around his finger as he kissed her tenderly on the neck.
Never had I felt such an all-consuming anger coupled with the craving for what my brother had. The ease with which he and Stella interacted was something I had only dreamed about with one girl.
I hadn’t ever really been the relationship type. Getting onto the rodeo circuit meant lots of training that wore you down physically and mentally.
At the end of a long training session, the only thing I wanted was a shower and a nap. I’m not going to say I was exactly celibate through the last twelve years, but I sure as hell didn’t let them stay over, and I generally never called them again.
Buckle bunnies were a dime a dozen, and I generally didn’t meet the same one twice.
The only girl I had ever imagined coming home to at the end of a long day of training was my best friend.
Until recently, I hadn’t ever imagined anything outside of a platonic relationship, but the desire for something more hit me straight in the gut tonight as I watched the happiness radiate from my twin.
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.
There were days I woke up, having gotten a fitful night’s sleep, and dreaded the day ahead, knowing what lay on the other side.
Nights when I wished that when I closed my eyes, they wouldn’t reopen.
Moments when, in the silence, all I can hear is the crack of that gun as it stripped me of the one thing I held closest to my heart.
I wouldn’t wish this life on anyone because it wasn’t a life. It was a death sentence, and I was a walking, talking corpse.
“You don’t know shit,” I repeated, softening my words until they were almost a whisper.
“I may not know how you’re feeling, but I know you. And this version, standing in front of me? That’s not the brother I know and love. Above all else, that’s not the brother Ma and Pops raised.”
His words hit home, and I dropped my head in defeat. Ma would have killed me for talking to Stella the way I had. She had always taught us the importance of respecting women.
“Here’s the problem, Max—that man, the man you all knew and loved? I don’t think he exists anymore.”
I could feel the wetness dripping off my chin, and I avoided wiping it away. I didn’t lift my head and give Max the satisfaction of knowing how his words had affected me, but he knew. We always knew.
He stepped closer, extending a finger and pointing it at my chest. The sharp jab was enough to push me backward against the wall. He flicked up the brim of my hat, forcing me to meet his gaze as his words decimated me.
“You may not think he exists here,” he said, tapping his finger on my temple. “But he sure as hell still exists here.”
His finger poked me square in the heart, a direct shot to my emotions. I hung my head in shame, adjusting my hat back over my brow.
With the final blow having been dealt and me properly chastised, he sauntered back into the bar like he hadn’t just served me my ass on a silver platter.