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Hemlock knew when to walk away and this was one of those moments. He couldn’t stop his mind from going straight to the worse case possible. Shaking his head at Truck, and barely glancing at Charlie, disgusted with how he had let himself fall for the girl and for the trust he had always given his brother, he stepped back.

Truck stared at Hemlock, then at Charlie and back at the confused look Hemlock was giving them. “What’s that look for, son?”

“Fuck you.” Walking out, Hemlock slammed the kitchen door shut with such force the glass broke.

“Come back here you son of a bitch.” Hemlock heard Truck yell as the brother came barreling out of the house behind him.

Hemlock backtracked, turned on Truck, and for the first time in twelve years swung at the man. His fist connected with Truck’s chin, splitting it open. Blood dripped down onto his chest as Hemlock threw a second punch. Truck was ready for that one and managed to duck.

He didn’t get the chance to throw another one. Truck dove for him, catching him around the midsection and slammed him to the ground. Hemlock fought to get the brother off him. “What is your fucking problem?” Truck yelled while keeping Hemlock pinned down.

“You. You know how I feel about her.” The comment caught Truck off guard just enough for Hemlock to toss him off and roll away.

Scrambling to his feet, Truck tried to stop Hemlock from leaving but the kid refused to listen to him. “Nothing’s going on here,” his words fell on def ears as Hemlock refused to look at him. “You leave, don’t come back,” he yelled at Hemlock. Regretting the words immediately, Truck tried to take them back, but the kid wasn’t having it. “Hemlock, don’t…”

“Don’t worry, I won’t.” Hemlock fired up the bike and headed anywhere but there. His hands tightened around the bike’s grips with such intensity, his knuckles were white. As he shifted gears his thoughts spinning faster than the wheels beneath him. He didn’t notice how hard his heart was pounding or how sharp his breathing was. All he could think about was Charlie and the betrayal he felt by both her and Truck. Truck… the one person he never thought would stab him in the back. Especially not over a woman.

The engine roared beneath him, but it did nothing to drown out the chaos in his head. Hemlock shifted gears, accelerating hard as he shot down the street, heading nowhere in particular. He didn’t care about the rules anymore, didn’t care about anything except the roar of the bike, the wind tearing at his face and ripping through his hair.

Truck looked over at Charlie who now stood in the doorway, shocked at how Hemlock had reacted at seeing them standing in the kitchen. “I need to go after him.”

“Let me change out of my bathing suit and I’ll go with you.”

“Yeah. Sure. I need to grab a shirt and shoes.”

Chapter Fourteen

Hemlock’s hands gripped the handlebars with a white-knuckled intensity. All he could think about washer—Charlie—and the betrayal that sliced through him like a blade.

And then Truck. The one person he believed he could count on.

It was supposed to be a joke. A stupid razzing. He’d been annoyed at Razor’s teasing, irritated at how everyone saw him as the guy who couldn’t close the deal with a decent girl. But he never,neverthought Truck would cross that line. Not after everything. Not after all the times they’dtalkedabout her. Not afterhehad told Truck how much he cared about her. How much she meant to him.

And yet, there they were. Charlie, with that smile he thought was just for him, leaning on the counter like she belonged to someone else. Truck, his brother, standing beside her in a way that made Hemlock’s stomach churn. Truck knew. He knew how Hemlock felt about Charlie and still went ahead andtookwhat he wanted without even a second thought.

The engine roared beneath him, but it did nothing to drown out the chaos in his head. He didn’t care about the rules anymore, didn’t care about anything except the roar of the bike and the wind tearing at his face.

He felt like he was on fire, and not the good kind. His heart, his chest, his whole body hurt with a rage so raw and primal it burned him from the inside out. He couldn’t wrap his head around it.How could they?

The image of Charlie, smiling at him with that innocent look on her face… He could see it clearly now. He could see her leaning into Truck, her hand resting so comfortably on his arm. She didn’t even blink when he came through the door. She didn’t even try to pretend it wasn’t happening. It was like she had no problem with it. And Truck? The bastard was just as calm as if nothing had changed. He’d known all along, and he hadn’t given a damn about how it would break Hemlock.

They were probably laughing at me,he thought bitterly.Probably thought it was hilarious, how he’d been mooning over her while they were already...His throat tightened, and for a split second, he almost lost control of the bike.

The road blurred past him, the houses, the trees, the streetlights—all just flashes of color in his peripheral vision. But none of it mattered. His mind kept flashing back to the scene in the kitchen. To Charlie’s smile. To Truck’s ease, the way he’d leaned against the counter like they were the perfect damn pair.

Hemlock gritted his teeth and shoved the throttle forward again, pushing the bike faster. The rush of speed did nothing to quench the fire inside him. If anything, it made the anger burn harder, deeper.

He could feel the weight of the betrayal pressing on his chest, suffocating him. The one person he’d always trusted to have his back. It was the cruelest thing. Not just the betrayal, but the fact that it was so casual. Like it didn’t even matter to them.

The images played over and over in his mind. The way Charlie had been standing there, so damn comfortable. And Truck? Leaning in like it was nothing. Like the years of friendship and family had meant nothing at all. Like he was just some dumb kid who didn’t know what he walked in on.

Hemlock swerved the bike to the side of the road, his tires skimming the gravel as he slowed to a stop. He threw the kickstand down with a sharp motion and dismounted, his hands shaking as he tugged off his helmet. The world around him seemed too quiet, too still, after everything that had just happened.

Pacing the side of the road, he tried to calm himself down, his free hand clenched into a tight fist as he grappled with his emotions. Every step was an attempt to ground himself, but the anger, frustration, and confusion still swirled within him like a storm he couldn’t outrun. His breath came in sharp bursts, the cool night air doing little to ease the fire burning in his chest. He could feel the weight of the decisions he had made pressing on him, suffocating him.

He stopped mid-step, his eyes drifting to the horizon where the faint glow of distant city lights blurred into the night sky. His mind raced, each thought more tangled than the last, the emotions more volatile.

He had always prided himself on control. On keeping his composure, on thinking things through before acting. But now, standing there, it all felt like a distant memory, slipping throughhis fingers as quickly as he could tried to grasp it. His grip on his fist tightened even further, nails digging into the palm of his hand as if the physical pain could somehow quell the turmoil inside.