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Bron barely comes close to his father’s impressive five-six, but he could easily play the leading role in a romantic comedy. He has those fine, chiseled features that drive women wild, and unlike Lachlan, his eyes are a lighter tone of hazel that make his brows appear darker and his lashes thicker. It works great for him selling houses as a junior member of Jefferson’s Hearth Realty. Older women love him. He can be incrediblycharming, especially when he fixes you with one of his million dollar smiles that make you feel like you’re the only woman in the world for him. I didn’t know him when he was in school, but I do know all women love him once he gets his charm on.

“What’s wrong with you?” he snaps. The duffle slung over his shoulder drops to the ground at his feet with a thud. “Can’t you do anything right?”

“Hey!” Lachlan is on his feet before I can even think of a response. His fingers tighten around the cutlery. “Watch it.”

I really wish he hadn’t said anything.

I can handle Bron’s wrath. His temper tantrums and whining. But the level of abject hatred he has for his father ... this night may end in bloodshed.

CHAPTER EIGHT

EVERLY

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“Everly doesn’t need you to be her hero,Dad,” Bron bites out, facing his father with the full weight of his loathing.

“I don’t care. You’re not going to talk to her that way.”

“It’s not your business how I talk to my girlfriend.”

Lachlan chucks the spoons into the soapy water with a deafening clatter. “In my house, I’m making it my business. You treat her with respect—”

Bron curls his lip. “Or what?”

“Mr. Shaw—” I begin, desperate to end this before it escalates.

Neither Lachlan nor Bron bother listening.

“You’re twenty-four years old, Bron,” Lachlan answers slowly. “You’re a fully grown man and I will treat you like such.”

The threat, even thinly veiled, slices through me, but Bron doesn’t seem to notice it, or he doesn’t care, when he scoffs.

“What does that even mean?”

Lachlan takes a step closer. “It means you won’t like it.”

Bron hears it then. The smirk vanishes, turning dark and murderous. It’s the void before the slip. The edge. I know it, and I know Lachlan is treading on thin ice if I don’t break this up.

“Why are you back?” I blurt ... loudly.

It’s the wrong question. I should have thought before I spoke. I know it even before those pits of hell round on me.

“Is there a reason I shouldn’t have come back to my house?”

Heat scorches my cheeks even as I fumble to keep my tone light. “Of course not. I just meant I thought you were busy.”

“I bet you did.” He bends at the waist and scoops up the straps on his bag. “Come.”

I’m momentarily thrown off by the command. I blink, but he’s already turned away and starting for the door. Lachlan’s arm extends to block my path even though I haven’t moved.

“She’s not going anywhere with you when you’re acting like a piece of shit. Take your stuff upstairs. You can join us once you cool down.”

I don’t have to see Bron’s face to feel the shift in the air. The solid gravity pulling everything to him like a black hole. The rage is an inferno coming off his skin, amping the already muggy temperature.

I open my mouth to assure Lachlan I’m fine, but Bron has already stomped from the room. His feet are heavythunderclaps all the way up the stairs. The walls tremble with the slam of his door overhead.

Then there’s silence.