Page 71 of Craving Consequences

Lachlan groans. “I should have done something sooner. I should have...”

“What?” I press. “What would you have done that you hadn’t already? You stepped in every chance you could. You talked to him, tried to reason with him.”

His head is rocking slightly before I can even finish. “I should have done more. I should have told Everly to leave him.”

“She’s a grown woman, Lach. She wasn’t going to leave him unless she made the decision on her own.”

“He’s my kid, Van. He’s my responsibility. I created him.”

Maybe I’m not the right person for this conversation, but goddamn it, I’m done.

“He’s Ashley’s kid. Hell, it wouldn’t surprise me if there isn’t a speck of your DNA in his entire worthless body.

That little shit is a manipulative, narcissistic psychopath, Lach.

Always was, always would be. You can see it in his dead eyes.

That is not you. You hear me? You did your best. You did more than most men ever would.

But he’s way too much like his mother and there is no fixing that evil. ”

His head lifts and his dark, watery eyes meet mine over deeply pinched eyebrows.

“I kicked him out yesterday. I took his phone, all his stuff, and told him to get out. I pushed him to this point. I made her vulnerable.” He straightens, expression only darkening.

“All that aside, how can I ever look at her knowing it was my son who put his hands on her, who...” he breaks off with a huffing grunt.

“He assaulted her, Van. He did the worst possible thing a man could ever do to a woman because he knew it would hurt me. He did all of that, everything, from the very beginning because he knew. He knew I loved her, and he went out of his way to take her apart just to torture me.”

I stare at him, trying to process that flood of information.

“What are you talking about?”

A big hand scrubs over his face and back through his hair.

I expect him to fall silent, to ignore the question when he drops his chin to his chest. But he speaks, unfolding the events of the previous day.

He goes through the fight with Bron, the disgusting words hurled by the shit dumpster and Lachlan’s decision to finally boot him from the house .

I listen without interruption. I let him get it all out while my chest expands with rage. My fingers curl into the marble countertop, nails biting along the underside as I resist the urge to hunt Bron Shaw down like a rabid dog and put him down.

“It felt so good,” Lachlan breathes. “Getting him out of my life, cutting him off, being ... free of him...” he shakes his head slowly. “I was so happy. What kind of father...?”

“The kind that’s had enough,” I bark. “You did everything for him and Ashley from day one and what did you ever get back in return? Nothing,” I answer for him. “The only thing you did wrong was putting up with them for as long as you did.”

“How am I supposed to look Everly in the face after this?”

I am not amused when I smack the counter and Lachlan flinches. “You face her like the man who fucking loves her, you idiot. That’s our girl and she needs us, so you need to pull yourself together, put your damn shoes on and get over there.”

“Brewer said—”

I push to my feet. “Fuck Brewer. Everly is mine and yours. She’s our person. She’s hurt, probably scared to death. She’s alone and she needs her men. So, get the hell up or I’ll drag you up.”

To my surprise, he does. He pushes his stool back and gets to his feet. His expression is still broken and defeated, but I know that will change once he sees Everly. I know the second he’s near her, he’ll forget all the stupid thoughts in his head. I just need to get him there.

I drive. Lachlan doesn’t stop me when I snatch his keys and climb in behind the wheel. He says nothing at all as I pull out of his driveway and start a very fast, mildly reckless drive to Everly’s house.

Her car isn’t in the driveway. The house itself is still and silent. Darkness presses out from the windows, seemingly vacant and abandoned in the settling late afternoon.

But it’s the small crowd of women clustered along her porch and walkway that give me pause.

“Fuck...” Lachlan mutters under his breath.

I share the sentiment. “Stay here,” I tell him as I push open my door.

He does not listen. He jumps down and joins me at the hood to face down the watchful eyes of the women judging him.

“Ladies,” I begin.

I am not at all surprised when Candace Ferguson steps forward. Beautiful and immaculate in her white trousers and loose, floral blouse, she’s the very definition of elegant. But her usually warm, brown eyes are hard chips of ice set deep at the center of her otherwise calm expression.

“Mr. Weaver. Mr. Shaw,” she barely gives Lachlan a fleeting glance. “What brings you here? ”

I know she knows why we’re here. I’m not at all upset by the show of support or their protective instinct. I am annoyed that they’re standing between me and Everly.

“Just came to check on Everly,” I say, keeping my voice respectful and even.

She offers me the hint of a smile. “It’s been a long day for Miss Cavanaugh, as you can well imagine. Perhaps right now isn’t the best time.”

“Is she inside?” I press, ignoring her subtle dismissal.

The fine line of her chin tilts, cocking her head slightly to one side in a very clear, you’re not getting past me gesture. “She’s resting.”

“We’re only here to make sure she’s okay,” I tell her, not feeling it’s her business, but understanding their cold shoulder.

“She isn’t,” Candace states smoothly. “She’s had a horrible ordeal that no one should have to face. Sheriff Brewer should have kept that boy behind bars after the first time he attacked her, but justice can be flawed. However, at this moment, I think it’s best if you and Mr. Shaw give Everly time.”

That isn’t going to happen.

I get the whole hierarchy of order. I get that they have Everly’s best interest at heart. I even applaud and respect their dedication to protecting her. But I haven’t seen her all day. It’s nearly sundown and I am not waiting for another day to hold her .

“With all due respect, ma’am, I am not leaving until I see Everly.”

Candace doesn’t move. She never so much as flinches. She stares straight into my eyes with all the warnings of a mama tigress prepared to rip my throat out.

“I think you misunderstand, Mr. Weaver. I am not asking you. I am telling you, you are not seeing her.”

I feel Lachlan’s hand on my arm. It makes me aware of the fingers curled at my sides that I quickly relax.

“Then you better call the sheriff, ma’am.”

Without waiting, I charge past her, past the stunned faces of Thelma and Florence. Maisie and Daisy. Even Dolores and her small cluster of busybodies. I shoulder up the front steps, glower down at Olive standing arms folded in front of the door, expression defiant.

“Move,” I warn her.

“She’s not home,” the girl mutters, still not moving.

I want to believe her, but I don’t. I raise a fist and beat into the door just over her head.

“Everly!” I call.

“Mr. Weaver,” Candace hurries forward, expression outraged. “This is no way to behave.”

I ignore her and move to peek through the windows along the garage door.

No car .

She really isn’t home.

Goddamn it.

I turn and meet Candace’s rigid expression. “Where is she?”

It’s a stupid question. For one, they wouldn’t be camped outside her door if they knew, but also, they wouldn’t tell me if they did.

“Your barbaric—”

I ignore her as I dig out my phone and call the only person who Everly might go to.

To my surprise, Lauren actually picks up.

“Dad, I’m serious—”

“Where’s Everly? Is she with you?”

There’s silence followed by the familiar rattle of springs and bedframes creaking.

“No, she should be home.”

“She’s not.” I push down the stairs, meeting Dolores’s pursed outrage with an annoyed scowl. “Do you know where she’d go?”

I hear the rustle of fabric and the rapid patter of feet.

“She probably went for a drive,” Lauren’s saying as keys jingle, and a door slams. “She’s not really in any kind of headspace to ... Jesus, Teddy. What the fuck are you doing standing there like some weirdo?”

I hear an awkward cough, followed by a male voice, “Just headed out. Wasn’t expecting anyone to come barreling down the stairs. Everything okay?”

“You have a car. Drop me off somewhere?”

“Oh, yeah, sure.”

A second later, Lauren’s voice is in my ear, “Dad, I’m coming over.”

The line goes dead, and I’m left with even less answers than when I called her. Moreover, she left me alone, surrounded by a small army of pissed off women.

I face their leader. If anyone can keep me from getting mauled to death, it’s her. Hopefully.

“We care about Everly as much as you do,” I tell Candace.

“And we are just as pissed about what happened as you are. I personally would like to be the first person to get my hands on that turd stain, but the only important thing right now is making sure Everly’s okay because if she’s not home and she’s not with Lauren, where is she? ”

“And the sheriff is still looking for Bron,” Maisie gasps, big, dark eyes swinging to Candace. “We need to find her. What if he has her again?”

I had not even thought of that.

Neither had the other women based on the raised chatter of concern as all attention pivots to Candace .

The metaphorical queen of Jefferson purses her nude lips and takes a deep inhale that lifts her shoulders. Her neatly manicured hands clasp at her midsection as she addresses the crowd with cool, calm confidence.