“She said she’d been selfish and she was sorry,” Asher informed me.
My heart slammed against my chest and I grabbed the doorframe to keep from putting my fist through a wall. “Did he touch her?” If he had, I wouldn’t be able to control myself.
“No. She didn’t get within ten feet of him when she spoke to him,” he said slowly. “Bray, what the hell is wrong with you? You’re acting like someone fucked your girlfriend. Not the other way around.”
I ripped off the door facing and tossed it aside, before glaring back at Asher. “She’s mine.”
Asher raised his eyebrows. “She was Brent’s. You didn’t respect that.”
“No,” I roared, taking a step toward him. “She was always mine.”
Asher studied me, but he didn’t move. He didn’t even flinch. “What’s happened to you?”
How would I explain to him, to any of them, how Scarlet made me feel? What she gave me. I felt my body begin to shake.
“You okay . . . what’s wrong? Look at me, Bray,” the concern in Asher’s voice snapped me out of the panic that was starting to squeeze my lungs. I had to find Scarlet. I needed her to touch me. To ease this.
“I gotta go,” I said before turning and stalking back to my truck. Getting to Scarlet was all what I needed first. Everything else could wait. She’d been here and she’d talked to Brent. I had to know what he said to her. I needed her to tell me it was still me she wanted.
The slamming of a car door caught my attention and I turned to see Dixie standing beside her car with tears streaming down her face.
“What’s wrong?” Asher called out as he walked past me hell bent on getting to Dixie.
“Careful, bro. She belongs to Steel,” I said causing him to stop and swing a warning glare toward me.
Didn’t feel so good when someone told you your woman was someone else’s, did it? Maybe he’d remember that next time.
“She’s gone,” Dixie said looking at me instead of Asher.
My lungs ceased up and my pulse sped up. The world around me faded away. “No,” was all I could get out.
Dixie looked at Asher and covered her mouth on a sob. “She left me a note. She said she wasn’t her mother. She had to fix what she’d done.”
No. No. No.
Scarlet was not gone. She didn’t leave me. She knew she couldn’t leave me. I made it very clear to her last night.
“No!” My voice didn’t even sound like mine. I was moving toward Dixie now. I had to stop her from saying any more lies.
Asher was in my face and he shoved me back until I stumbled. “Get a hold of yourself. Jesus! You’ve lost your mind. What is fucking wrong with you?”
“No!” I yelled at the top of my lungs again, letting all the fear and panic that was trying to take hold of me grip me even tighter.
“Oh, fuck,” Asher’s voice was out there somewhere. I heard it but I couldn’t focus on what he was saying.
“Go find Steel.”
“It’s his meds. Shit, I should have realized this sooner.”
“What meds?”
“They aren’t working.”
“Asher, what meds?”
Their voices faded out completely until it was all black. And I roared with the pain taking over my chest. She’d left me. I was hollow again.
Asher Sutton
WHEN BRAY REFUSED to go to counseling over his temper issues, the doctor prescribed an antidepressant he said helped with anger management. It had. A lot. It kept Bray calm. For the past five years, he rarely ever lost his temper. He was laid back and a smartass. I should have noticed he’d been different since I got home. There was no telling how long he’d been off them. He’d covered it up well. Until two nights ago.
Scarlet’s leaving was for the best. I knew Dixie was going to miss her and I hated that for her, but my brothers needed time. If I had to drag Bray to a counselor and sit there with him twice a week, I was prepared to do it. There was something deep inside him none of us knew how to help him overcome. Something that haunted him. Controlled him. He needed help. More than a damn pill could do.
We’d kept his issue and the fact he needed medication for it from the others. Only I knew. Momma had asked me to talk him into taking it in the beginning. She couldn’t get him to do it. I’d somehow managed to convince him he needed them. But with me gone, he’d decided to go off them. I knew that after this, I wasn’t going to be able to return to Florida. I’d go back for a small break, but I was needed here. Momma would tell me I wasn’t, that I should go live my life, but I knew better. The boys needed me. Momma needed me. I shouldn’t have left to begin with.
“Asher, I need you to deliver a load to Luke Monroe, if you will.” Denver called out from the back door of Watson’s Feed and Seed. I was unloading a truck and restocking. The sun was hot as hell and normally I liked doing deliveries. But not this time. Not to Luke Monroe’s. Not today. Not after the other night. Avoiding Dixie was the only way I managed to stay sane. In the last forty-eight hours, I had to deal with her more than I could bare because it made me miss her even more. Our bond was still there. Even when hell was breaking loose, it was there. However, telling my boss I wasn’t going to do my job because of a girl wasn’t exactly an option. I swore under my breath and called back, “Okay, what’s he need?”
“Hannah is bringing you the list. She’s the one who took the order.”
And this just kept getting better and better. Hannah liked having an excuse to come out here and see me. If she didn’t have an order for me, she brought me a drink. It was nice of her to do that, but I knew by the way she was smiling and giggling that it wasn’t because she thought I was thirsty. Hannah wanted us to become more. She wasn’t hard on the eyes and unlike some of the other girls in town, she was also intelligent and ambitious. I’d heard all about her plans after college. Hannah was organized, even more so than me, she liked current events, and chatted on a lot about politics. I listened, but didn’t say much. She had a nice voice, and if only briefly, she’d distracted me from my thoughts of Dixie. But it was short-lived.
I wiped my forehead with the towel I kept tucked in my pocket. When sweat got into my eyes, with dirt mixed in, it burned like a motherfucker. Before I could prepare myself for going to Luke’s, Hannah came strutting to the back. Her navy shorts were showing every inch of her legs. One centimeter shorter and her rounded ass cheeks would peep out for all to see. The pale yellow tank top she was wearing was the only thing covering her tits. No bra. I wondered why Denver let her dress that way. Display herself like that.
“Need help loading this stuff,” she asked as she all but bounced walking toward me, grinning and selling it.
“Thanks, but I got it,” I replied.
She always smiled, perennially happy about life, which I envied and often wondered what that felt like. But she wasn’t dressed for manual labor. She never was, yet she always offered to help me.