Nae squeezes my hand. “Canyon, don’t.”
“Get in the car, babe,” I grind out. “I need a word with this prick.”
“Don’t do anything you’ll regret,” she warns, pinning me with a firm stare. “I’m serious.”
“Never,” I say with a crooked, forced grin before pecking her lips. “It’ll just be a second.”
I hand Nae the keys so she can start up the AC. The girls pile in, and Alis hops off the hood before she starts the engine.
“Stalking me, Wonderland?” I cross my arms over my chest and peer down at him.
Fearless as fuck, he steps closer, a sneer twisting his features. “Stay out of my lane, bro.”
“Call me bro again.” I flash him a vicious grin that promises a fist through his irritating face. “Do it. I fucking dare you.”
“Your bully tactics won’t work with me,” Alis scoffs, his dark, empty eyes sharpening. “You’re pissed at your dad, so you’re trying to get to me. It’s a wasted effort. You’ll never be anything but second best. Just ask your dad. He has a new favorite son.”
I grind my teeth together, trying desperately to keep my promise to Nae not to hurt him. To keep my fists from swinging, I crack my neck and suck in a deep breath.
“You’re not his son,” I manage in an even tone.
“By Christmas, I’ll be calling him Daddy too—”
His words are cut off when I shove him. He’s ready for my retaliation because he swings his violin case at me, nailing me in the ribs. It’s not hard enough to break anything, but I’ll be sporting a bruise, that’s for damn sure. Rather than continue our fight, he turns and hightails it away from me.
“That’s right, bro, run the fuck away!”
His middle finger waves at me in return before he climbs into his shiny white Range Rover. Spoiled little shit. I huff and fling open the door to my Challenger. The air has yet to cool, but Naomi’s icy glare has me feeling like shit.
“That was entertaining,” Paige sasses from the back seat. “I laughed my ass off when he hit you with his violin.” She cackles again as though just thinking about it brings her great joy.
“He started it,” I grumble, ignoring Nae’s glare.
I reach over to take her hand, but she swats it away, choosing to cross her arms over her chest and look out the window.
“Oooh, trouble with the lovebirds,” Paige hisses. “Is this because you quit the football team?”
“You can take the bus tomorrow,” I snap over my shoulder.
“Wait,” Nae croaks out. “You quit the football team? When were you going to tell me?”
“Oh boy,” Carrie mumbles under her breath.
I back out of the parking spot and peel out, ignoring everyone in the car. I’m quickly losing my shit, and I don’t want Nae even more pissed at me if I take it out on her bratty sister. With a mash of the button, I blare some G-Eazy even though Nae hates his music. The bass thumps through the vehicle, calming my nerves.
When I pull into Nae and Paige’s driveway, Paige climbs out, but Nae turns the music off before leveling me with a penetrating stare.
“What?” I grit out.
“You know what.”
“It’s just football. I only did it for him. You know that.” Him being Dad.
“Maybe you should talk to him,” she throws back. “Because ever since you went on strike against your dad, you haven’t been yourself.”
Carrie remains silent in the back seat, clearly not wanting to get caught in the middle of our argument, even though it sort of pertains to her too.
“Maybe I don’t like who I used to be.” I narrow my eyes, giving Nae the asshole smile I know she hates. “Maybe I like this guy better.”
Her brows furl, and she studies me for a long beat. I fidget under her intense gaze, darting my eyes to the clock on the dash.
“Thought you had work?” I mumble. “You’ll be late.”
“Right,” she huffs. “Call me later when you’re not being a prick.”
As soon as she climbs out, Carrie hops into the front. She wisely keeps her mouth shut. We ride in silence until we pull into our driveway. Even though we’ve lived in this house since we were babies, it doesn’t feel like home anymore. I blame Dad for that. He left us here all alone to go play house with Quinn and Alister.
Carrie pretends all is okay for my sake, but I don’t miss the dark circles under her eyes. It’s not me she’s worried about. It’s Mom. Yes, Mom has a job decorating cakes, and it’s something she probably enjoys, but that doesn’t mean she’s not miserable the rest of the time. It had to be crushing to find out your husband had been cheating on you and wanted to flush an eighteen-year marriage down the toilet. And to add insult to injury, discover you’d been cheated on with another man—a man you’d safely assumed was your husband’s friend and nothing more.