Chapter 31
Tad
I didn’t exactly plan on getting in the crosshairs of a shitstorm in Bennett Bishop’s house.
But my sheep had other plans.
Crosby figured out a way to unlatch the new gate Randy and I installed on the side of the fence that butts up toward the Bishops’ house a week ago. We thought it was bulletproof. Evidently, it wasn’t Crosby-proof.
Half my flock was in Bennett’s yard before I knew it, some in his driveway, some in the pasture near his studio, and I headed over that way to get their asses back over to the farm.
But then I heard screaming and hollering.
The yelling wasn’t of the toddler variety or a happy family house boisterous with noise. It was sharp. It was angry. It was strong enough to shake the fucking walls and urge a gallon of adrenaline to pour into my veins.
And I swore I could hear Breezy’s soft voice somewhere in the violent mix.
I didn’t think. I acted, and I ran as fast as I could across the yard and straight to the house.
My boots hit the porch hard enough to rattle the boards, and I didn’t even bother knocking. I turned the knob and yanked the door open as my pulse climbed straight into fight mode. And I busted into the house, eyes searching frantically for Breezy.
Any manner of burglary or attempted kidnapping or Breezy being held at gunpoint was running through my head, but what I found was entirely confusing and infuriating, considering she looked more upset than I’ve ever seen her.
And that’s how I ended up here with a livid Bennett and a dude I’ve never met staring me down while a now-sobbing Breezy hops up from the kitchen table and runs over to the trash can to puke her guts out.
“Earth to Farmer Ted, what are you doing here, in my fucking house?” Bennett asks for the second time, but I’m too focused on Breezy to listen or care or respond. I’m also feeling really pissed that she’s in this state, and I have to assume someone in this room is the cause.
“Breezy?” I question, walking over toward her and gently putting my hand on her back. “Are you okay?”
When she doesn’t answer, probably because she’s too busy hurling and dry heaving between sobs, I turn toward Bennett and the other dude I don’t know. Both still look angry as fuck, but guess what? I’m fucking angry too. “What happened?”
“Why the fuck should we tell you?” the man next to Bennett asks. “I don’t even know who the hell you are.”
“He’s the fucking sheep farmer from next door,” Bennett interjects, just as I crack back.
“Yeah, well, I can say the same about you. Who the fuck are you, and why’ve you got her crying?”
“Why don’t you leave our sister to us, Farmer Ted?” Bennett intervenes, but his words are all the clue I need to put the rest of it together. Our sister. Our.
“Wait…Logan?” With angry eyes, I turn back to the other brother. “You’re Logan?”
He lets out an exasperated sigh. “Listen, I know it’s rare for celebrities to land in this town, but I’m not here to entertain small-town folk with autographs and fucking selfies.”
Breezy is crying, and he thinks I came in here to get his fucking autograph? I’m two seconds away from throttling this guy.
“How about you go back to whatever farm you came from and give us some privacy,” Logan adds, his voice an egotistical snarl, and the cries of Bennett and Norah’s little girl start to ring out again from somewhere down the hallway.
But I hardly hear anything besides the piercing buzzing in my ears. Can hardly see anything besides red.
Everything I know about Breezy and Logan and how fucked up he’s handled everything since their dad’s passing overwhelms my already adrenaline-stocked veins with a surge of rage.
And before I know it, I step forward, cock my fist, and let it fly, landing a ringer of a punch directly to his right eye.
“Fuck!” He stumbles back through a shout, and the whole room erupts into chaos.
“What the fuck are you doing, Farmer Ted?” Bennett yells just as Norah comes through the front door behind me, her voice rising to a screech as she surveys what’s going on.
“I don’t know what’s happening right now, but someone better tell me why I can hear my daughter screaming from her room while a bunch of adults are in here having a shouting match, and they’d better do it quick!”
“I’ll get her, babe,” Bennett offers, subduing immediately, and I don’t blame him.
I’ve never seen Norah’s head so ready to pop off, and she’s been in Red Bridge—and through all manner of trauma—for a while now.
A crying, unattended daughter is very much the straw that broke the camel’s back for almost any mother, and Bennett is smart enough to recognize it.
I look down at Breezy, intent to check on her as she leans over the trash can and throws up again, but Logan steps forward and shoves me back with a hand in my chest. “Stay the fuck back.”
I don’t think, and I don’t hesitate. In one smooth motion, I hit him again, a harsh jab to his left eye.
“What in the actual hell, Tad?” Norah yells.
“Are you kidding me?” Logan groans, holding his other eye now. “Why do you keep fucking punching me!”
“Bam! Bam!” Autumn screeches from Bennett’s arms, unfortunately having entered the room while I was zoned out in the red mist of anger.
“Oh my God,” Breezy cries as she moves back over to the kitchen table and collapses in a chair again, pulling the collar of her shirt up over her mouth.
“I’m gonna fucking kill you,” Logan yells, lunging toward me with an outstretched arm I easily deflect.
“Fucking try!” I challenge back, waggling my eyebrows and my fingers all at once. The aggression is long repressed but cathartic and reminds me a little bit of my old life—the one I lived the few months before I made the decision to move to Red Bridge and swore I’d never go back to.
There were plenty of dark nights in Chicago when I would go to bars just looking to get in a fight with someone.
Back then, it was the only thing that stopped the pain.
But now, it’s like it’s the only thing that’s making me feel in control of whatever is going on with Breezy.
Like my sole purpose of being here is to protect her.
“Hey!” Norah yells as Autumn repeats something that sounds an awful lot like “fucking.”
Bennett hands Autumn off to Norah and steps into the fray, which only escalates things more. He puts a hand on my chest, which I answer with a shove. Logan lunges, seemingly in Bennett’s defense, but Bennett stops him with a fist to the chin.
“What the hell?” Logan yells, yet another part of his face succumbing to the role of punching bag. “Why am I the one who keeps getting punched?” And when he starts to move forward, his eyes and fists very much intent on returning the violence, Norah’s voice booms him to a stop.
“Enough!” she screams, her voice guttural and loud in a way that shakes the windowpanes.
Shoving through us, she grabs two bags of frozen peas from the fridge and shoves them at Logan.
He opens his mouth to yell, and she cuts him off with a hand.
“No! No, I don’t want to hear it! I’m done!
Get out of this house! Right now! All three of you! ”
“Me?” Bennett questions.
“Yes, you! In fact, especially you! So help me, if the three of you aren’t out of this space in five seconds, I’m getting the shotgun!”
Logan moves first, the back screen door slamming behind him as he jumps down all the deck stairs and falls to his ass in the grass. Bennett opens his mouth to argue, but when Norah snaps her fingers, he follows with the same hurried movements.
I linger, trying to check on Breezy and actually get a look at her face before I leave, but Norah isn’t having it. “Tad Hanson, I swear to everything holy, you better get out of this house right now!”
“Bye-bye!” Autumn shouts. “Bye-bye-bye!”
I reach out to squeeze Breezy’s elbow, but exiting as directed and depositing myself in the backyard where Bennett and Logan reside.
Logan is sitting down in one of the Adirondack chairs that look out toward the rolling hills, and Bennett is pacing behind him.
But when Logan pulls a cigarette out from the carton in his pocket, before he can light it, Bennett snags it, breaking it in half.
“Hey!” Logan jumps to his feet and drops the bags of peas behind him.
Bennett’s finger is a sword, pointing aggressively in Logan’s face. “Smoke somewhere else if you want, but you’re not doing it here, anywhere near my house or my daughter.”
“Fuck me,” Logan remarks, smacking Ben’s hand away. “It’s not like I planned to blow the smoke in her face. I only smoke when I’m stressed—which I am now because the two of you freak shows felt like making me bleed.”
“Please,” Bennett groans. “Don’t be such a pussy, Logan. Before Hollywood, I could have broken your arm, and you wouldn’t be complaining this much. Fucking actor pricks made you soft.”
“Well, excuse me for not expecting the stupid fucking sheep farmer to have such a strong arm!”
I chuckle, and the two of them turn on me in unison.
“You shut the fuck up.”
“Go home, Ted.”
No way in hell I’m leaving without talking to Breezy, angry brothers or not.
“My name is Tad. Not fucking Ted,” I answer on a sigh, rolling my eyes. “And I’m not leaving.”
“I’m not either,” Logan declares.
“Well, that’s just fucking great. I guess we’re at a stalemate.” Bennett turns angrily and walks toward the backyard, Logan calling after him, when all I have to offer is a shrug.
“Where are you going?”
“To get a burn barrel,” Bennett calls back, annoyed. “It’s cold as fuck, and if we’re gonna stand around with our dicks in our hands, we might as well burn some shit.”
Great. Burning shit. Just the thing I need.