Page 18 of Craving Consequences

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 heavy thunderclaps all the way up the stairs. The walls tremble with the slam of his door overhead.

Then there’s silence.

A sickly one. One that coils in the pit of my stomach, slimy and vile. Like throwing back raw eggs. Dread prickles across my cold flesh to settle at my feet.

Even as I fight to keep from showing it, my stiff muscles tremble. I hate it. I’m not scared of Bron. He’s hot tempered and cruel, but he’s never raised a hand to me. He’s barely raised his voice. It’s not his retaliation that has me biting my lip with anxiety.

“Everly?”

I suck in a breath and turn to face the man watching me with barely restrained anger and concern.

“Yes, Mr. Shaw?” I whisper.

He turns his massive body fully to me. “You okay, sweetheart?”

I give a quick, mandatory nod. “Yes, sir.”

There’s a moment of him staring into my eyes, searching for the truth before he exhales with a shake of his head. “I know I shouldn’t have gotten involved, but ... he has no business talking to you that way, do you understand?”

I nod again but say nothing. I just want this whole thing to end. I want to escape. Go somewhere quiet and private to breathe .

He looks past me to the other man, the one I can’t bring myself to face, standing tall and still behind me. The two have their silent discussion I don’t understand before I’m the subject of Lachlan’s attention once more.

“Why don’t you go sit with Lauren? We’ll finish up here.”

I take the opening. I turn on my heel and move quickly through the patio doors and out into the balmy evening. Below, in the shiny light of the pool, Lauren’s silhouette cuts through the water, a fluid streak of power. Her bright red two-piece practically glows.

Resisting the urge to dive in with her, fully clothed, I pad to the edge of the pool and slip my feet into the cool water.

Lauren pops up several feet away, pale strands slicked back from her beautiful face. She blinks eyes famed with star spikes. They brighten when she spots me.

“Hello, my love!” She pushes closer with one powerful kick. “Join me.”

I shake my head, offering her the best smile I can muster. “I’m really not in the mood to get wet.”

Her head cocks to one side. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing—”

But her face has already turned in the direction of the house, searching and assessing like she can see through the walls.

“Fucker’s back, isn’t he?”

I groan even as I sigh. “Lauren... ”

“Like it’s too much to ask for the universe to let him get eaten by squirrels,” she gripes.

“Pretty sure squirrels aren’t carnivores,” I mumble, semi-amused.

“Rabid ones are. Just need a small army.” She counters. “What did he say to you?”

“Seriously, nothing. I’m fine.”

Blue eyes roll in my direction, deadpan and irritable. “I know you don’t want my help or my advice, but ... babe, seriously, I swear on my signed Whitney Houston poster, you dump his ass and you’ll feel so much better.”

Rather than respond in the same response I give every time, I turn my attention to the twin figures moving through the soft, golden light of the kitchen. Both seem much too big for such a confined space.

I tear my attention away to face my best friend and her laser focus. I force a grin.

“Are we still on for next weekend?”

She better be.

I spent the better part of four months planning this surprise birthday party for her and if she tells me she forgot or made other plans, I may strangle her and drag her there by force.

Best friend or not, especially given how impossible she is to surprise.

Not even surprise, just deal with her leading up to the day .

Lauren is one of those people who has zero chill when it comes to gifts. She’s known to hunt down Christmas presents down weeks before the big day. According to Van, she’s always been a nightmare.

This year, I got smart. The party is a month before her actual birthday. Four weeks to the day planned on the very weekend we usually head out to my parents’ cabin, so it won’t raise any flags.

Not going to lie, I am super impressed with myself for being this clever. I just need to make sure my face doesn’t subtitle my triumph, and no one accidentally lets it slip. So far, for a town that thrives on gossip, everyone’s been pretty quiet about the big day.

Lauren smirks and does a little wiggle around a sassy grin. “A whole weekend with the love of my life? You’d have to kill me to stop me from coming. Even then, I’d haunt you as a ghost.”

I snort a laugh. “Great. At least I’ll know who’s moving my stuff around.”

Lauren scoffs. “Your stuff? Babe, I will stick my cold, dead fingers into Crusty’s asshole every time you try to fuck him.”

My explosion of laughter sends Lauren into her own fit of giggles. Within seconds, we’re both howling.

“That is disgusting! ”

Lauren shrugs a shoulder, grin lopsided and mischievous. “I’m not happy about it either, but I’m willing to spend eternity with one poopy finger for you.”

I kick water at her. “Stop that!”

Her smirk widens as she kicks back, letting her body drift lazily in the water. “You know, I bet Lachlan—”

I never got to hear the rest of that statement when raised voices fill the night. Both our heads turn to watch Bron shout something back over his shoulder as he charges onto the patio.

All humor vanishes and settles in my gut as I watch him stomp down the steps straight in my direction. The need to bolt scuttles down my spine even as my butt stays rooted to the concrete.

“Behold. His crusty majesty has seen it fit to bestow us with his mighty graces,” Lauren declares loudly, smirk cutting when Bron fixes her with his glower.

“Don’t,” I start to beg, too tired and sweaty to deal with their bickering.

But the bulls have caught sight of each other and the red flag is flying. Nothing short of a hose is going to stop them from charging, and I’m fresh out of hoses and patience.

Bron stops short of jumping into the pool. “Don’t you have a John to blow behind an alley somewhere?”

Lauren puckers her bottom lip up at him in mock pity. “I would never dream of taking your corner, crusty. ”

I exhale a groan and push to my feet. Water cascades down my legs as I stand to face my boyfriend. I know the grinding state of his teeth means I need to separate them before they really get into it, or his teeth shatter.

“Why did you bring her? You know I fucking hate her.”

From the corner of my eye, I spot Lachlan and Van emerging from the house to loom tall and broad on the patio. Both silent.

“Because she’s my best friend and her dad is your dad’s best friend so...” I face him with my hands on my hips. “Maybe if you both can just calm down and not look at each other—”

“Don’t bother, my love.” Lauren emerges from the pool, a siren rising from sea foam to grace menfolk with her beauty.

She hoists her dripping silhouette up and over the ledge before pushing gracefully to her feet.

She moves to her lounge chair and snatches the towel off the back.

“You’re using big words he doesn’t understand. ”

I’m already done with this conversation.

The two are oil and paper, and every word is a spark ready to set them off, and I know no matter what I do or say, it will be my fault.

Like I can somehow control Lauren. I already know I’m going to get an ear full once we’re alone.

It’ll be hours of sitting quietly while he rages about her disrespect.

Her existence as a whole and how my role as his girlfriend means I should cut her off.

After two years, it’s only gotten worse .

With no way to win this, I stalk to the edge of the yard in the direction of the shed.

I know I’m being a coward. I know because I’m practically sprinting to put distance between us.

I know he’s going to follow me because something went wrong with his friends and I’m the only one he’s going to take it out on, but at least there won’t be an audience if we’re far enough away.

The fold-up chairs we use for the fire pit are stacked neatly against the side wall. Lachlan keeps eight, but we’ve only ever used four — five if Bron actually joins us. I grab two and haul them to the brick and iron pit built into the ground. I set them up before moving to grab the next batch.

They’re not heavy and the task isn’t laboring, yet by the time I’m finished, sweat drips down my spine. My top clings to my skin and the loose strands that have escaped my high knot have plastered themselves at my temples and across the back of my neck.

I peel my t-shirt off. The overwhelming heat can no longer be ignored.

I stuff the corner of the soaked fabric into the back pocket of my shorts.

With clammy fingers that tangle in the strands caught in my elastic, I drag the band free and unleash the wild riot of deep auburn I inherited from my Irish mother, along with her milky fair complexion, freckles, and talent to burn to a crisp under even a hint of sunlight.

The only thing I got from my father was his soft, hazel green eyes.

Only mine have flecks of gold in the center in the shape of a starburst .

I bend at the waist, sweep all my hair over my head and twist it all back up in a knot, trying my best to catch all the loose strays that refuse to follow orders.

Accepting defeat, I check the knot holding my swimsuit top. I’m reconsidering joining Lauren in the pool when I make the mistake of glancing up straight into the eyes of two feral, starving wolves.