Jessinda was Tab’s sister. I was pretty sure this was sister code violation.

She closed her mouth, coughing, too, and came up the last few steps. She glanced at my feet before giving me a once-over. “I… Yeah. So, you and Jordan live together, huh?”

I leveled Jordan with a look. “Is this you getting back at Tab?” Because he had said he’d be moving on to her sisters.

He cringed, his hand raking through his hair. “No.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You sure?”

“It’s not.” He motioned to Jessinda, then let his hand drop by his side. “It just happened.”

And I had nothing to say to that. Turning, I started for the kitchen.

Jordan went to stand in front of the coffee machine, shirtless and only in his sweats. I was counting the nail scratches on his back when he looked over his shoulder. Seeing my gaze, he cursed under his breath. Three coffee mugs were set on the counter, creamer next to them. The machine began to spew.

“It’s not that, Bren. I promise.”

I didn’t have time to deal with that anyways. “My dad’s in town.”

His gaze sharpened and he wheeled completely around. “What?!”

Jessinda had been moving across the kitchen but faltered at hearing his reaction.

I added, indicating her, “You know me. Tell Tab yourself. Don’t make me do it.”

“Fuck.” His head reared back, and he glared at the ceiling. “Crew, Bren. Crew!”

I pointed at Jessinda. “Friend code. Tab lectured me last year about it. Don’t put me in that position.”

“I’ve chosen you over her so many times—”

“This isn’t quite the same and you know it.”

A pent-up growl erupted from him, but he sighed right after. “Yeah. I know. I’ll tell her.”

“Wait.” Jessinda’s last foot came down hard on the floor. She snapped out, “What?”

Jordan skimmed her over, his mouth tightening. “I’m not dating Tab anymore. I’ve not actually done anything wrong. Bren’s hardcore with her loyalty, and she’s not loyal to you right now. You’re the one who violated your code, so you gotta call her and tell her.”

Her mouth had been hanging open, and it snapped shut. “You’re fucking with me?”

Jordan shook his head, resigned.

She swung my way.

I gave her a hard stare back. “Do not even think you can scare me. Do not play that game. You won’t win.” And with that said, I was done.

The coffee had churned enough. Jordan poured one of the mugs, then handed it over to me. He lifted his chin up. “Your dad, huh?”

I sighed, taking the cup. All the fight in me left with that one question, all in a sudden whoosh. “Yeah.”

“I’m sorry.”

I shrugged, but my throat was burning. “Me too.”

Cross was coming out from the bedroom.

He stopped just short of the stairs, taking in the scene.

I didn’t say anything. He didn’t either, but we watched each other as I passed by, heading for the door. It was enough, and I drew in some needed strength from Jordan, and from that look with Cross, and somehow, it worked.

The tightness in my chest loosened.

BREN

I walked inside Coug r Lanes and my first encounter was Brock, coming my way.

There was a whole storm on his face. I stepped back, more out of self-preservation, but he swept past me. His hand took my arm and he pulled me right back outside, right back where I’d come from.

“Hey. Hello.”

I pulled my arm from his grasp. “Don’t touch me like that again.”

He held his hands up. “Sorry.” His eyes went past me, to the door. “You know who’s in there?”

“What?”

“Your fath—”

That was all I needed to hear.

I swept right back inside, and there he was. I would’ve seen him the first time if Brock hadn’t distracted me.

Sitting in a booth, one of the only three we had along those walls, his back was to the door. Papers were spread out in front of him. A cup of coffee and a pitcher on the table. He had a small plate, and what looked like the last crumbles of a muffin. There was a laptop opened up as well.

I stepped so I was right in front of him, and he looked up. A slow smile spread over his face, but he was expecting me. Well, he was in my workplace, so that was a no-shit moment.

“Bren!”

“Dad.” I took in the papers. They were applications. A pair of reading glasses was on the other side of the laptop, along with a cell phone. “What are you doing?”

“I’m applying for jobs.” He shot a grin over my shoulder. “I didn’t think they’d hire me here, but I was tempted. You looking for more help manning the bowling alley? I know a bit of maintenance, could help fix things when they break.”

Brock’s voice was low and tense. “I’m thinking that’s a pass.”

Derrick laughed.

My dad. Derrick.

My head was swimming.

“That’s what I thought.”

Brock settled behind me, his hand coming down on the table. “You can’t stay here.”

“Why not?” He motioned to me. “I thought I could be here, do some work, and be here when my daughter had some free time? I promise to keep ordering if that’s the issue.”

“That’s not the issue, and you know it.”

Brock nudged me, so I shifted, facing him and my dad at the same time. My back was now mostly turned toward the door.

“He’s here to keep tabs on us.” Brock raised his voice, more speaking to my dad than me. “Red Demons know that we’re closing in on where the big wigs are hiding, and they want all eyes on us that they can get. It ain’t going to happen. You have to leave, Mr. Monroe.”

I closed my eyes, memories assaulting me.

“...we’re charging Mr. Monroe with the assault and murder of …”

It washed over me, with the feels, the smells. The stale beer assaulting my nose. The dried sweat. The metallic smell of the blood. How blood could have a smell was beyond me, but it did.

I could feel the knife in my hand again.

The sound of his footsteps.

“Honey?”

My eyes snapped open. I was jarred back to reality, and I stared hard at my dad. “You have to leave.”

“But, Bren—”

“NOW!”

I didn’t want to go back there. If him being here was bringing memories from that first night, I didn’t want to endure what else I’d go through, again. The longer he stayed, the more I’d have to fight through.

“Bren—” He started to slide out of the booth.

It wasn’t fast enough. None of it was fast enough.

I needed Brock off of my back.

I needed my dad out of my life.

I needed all of it gone.

I grabbed his computer, snapping it shut, and was out the door in two steps. Heaving it over my head, I threw it as far as I could. Vehicles were pulling into the parking lot. I heard the crumble of the dirt under their tires, and I knew others had come out to watch what was going on, but I ignored all of them.

I had to.

My heart was pounding.

My hands were sweaty.

I felt like I was having a panic attack right then and there. No. I was having a panic attack.

Going back inside, my dad hadn’t moved. Brock too. Both were still in place, and I bent, sweeping the rest of his papers into my hands. Those followed behind his laptop. I tossed it all as hard as I could, but some flew back in the wind. A few even sailed right back inside.

I stepped on one, and I was almost dry heaving looking at what else he had there.

His phone.

His glasses.

I reached for both, but he jerked forward. Grabbing his phone, he stepped into me and wrapped his arms around me. “Sweetheart—”

“I’m not your sweetheart!” I ripped myself from his arms.

Another man in a matter of minutes who decided to touch me. He didn’t have that right. Brock hadn’t either. I was going feral again, the need to teach them both a lesson.

I waited, my hand ready, and I glared at him. “Get out. Get. Out. GET OUT!”

“Hon—!” he tried to yell at me, and he reached.

He shouldn’t have reached for me.

My arm moved back. My hand pulled out my knife, and I embedded it in his arm, right in the fleshiest part. His eyes went wide, staring at it. His face paled. “Bren!”

Someone else gasped behind me.

I felt hands on my shoulders, and I growled, whirling around.

It was Hawk. She stepped back, releasing me immediately. “Bren.”

God.

I hated that tone. Soft. Soothing. Like I was a fucking animal that needed to be tamed. Domesticated.

Fuck that. Fuck her. Fuck my dad. Fuck everyone.

My phone was ringing.

I heard it jarring, and then I felt it, and I pulled it out.

Channing calling.

I answered it, “I just stabbed Dad.”

There was total and complete silence on his end. Then, a soft, “Bren?”

“I want him gone. Now.”

“Are you hurt?”

“No.”

He exhaled sharply on his end. “Walk to the bathroom. Wash up, and then go and sit in a cool office. Okay? Can you do that for me?”

My brother would do what he always did. He’d take care of it, and I knew he’d be sending Cross my way. So, because of that, because I trusted my brother, I nodded. “Their air-conditioner doesn’t work.”