Page 21 of From the Wreckage

Brielle

Dad’s face lights up when I blurt out who Everett is. He claps Everett’s back with a grin. “You’re the one who helped my daughter? Hell, I like you even more now. Thank you.”

Muffled voices swirl around us—Tom and Anita chatting, Meghan saying something from beside me—but I barely hear any of it. My entire world narrows to Everett. Those warm brown eyes are locked on me, steady and piercing, and it takes everything I have not to splinter apart under the weight of them.

The doorbell rings.

I glance at Dad. “Who could that be?”

His grin is too smug. “Ah. Your surprise is here.”

Before I can question him, he strides to the door and pulls it open.

To my shock and horror, Joey steps inside.

The hardwood floor might as well split open and swallow me whole. My stomach lurches as my voice bursts out, sharp and panicked. “What are you doing here?”

At the same time, Dad says, “Surprise,” looking delighted.

I don’t have the heart to tell him he shouldn’t have invited Joey.

Joey grins like this is the best idea anyone’s ever had. He strides across the room, golden boy confidence oozing off him, but all I can see is Everett’s reaction. His jaw clenches, and his hands curl into fists at his sides. His eyes are murderous as he watches Joey like a hawk.

Joey leans in and presses a kiss to my cheek. “I came to see you.”

“Why?” I blurt, my brows lifting.

His grin falters. For a split second, the polished quarterback facade slips. “Why? Bri, we’ve been dating since last fall.”

I glance at Everett. His stunned expression twists into something darker. Angrier. My chest seizes.

My own anger sparks. “I’m surprised you could tear yourself away from the girl in the pictures.”

Joey’s eyes narrow, his jaw working. “Seriously? You’re bringing that up now?”

Dad clears his throat, clearly uncomfortable. He claps his hands together too loudly. “Well. Let’s head to the dining room. Dinner’s almost ready.”

Joey rolls his eyes and mutters something to Meghan. Tom and Anita trail after Dad. I move closer to Everett, my pulse pounding.

“I’m sorry about this,” I whisper. “I?—”

“You have a boyfriend?” His voice cuts like a blade.

“No! He’s not my boyfriend.” I blow out a frustrated breath, my chest tightening. “We were dating. Things have been strained and?—”

“So you used me as a rebound because your relationship with your boyfriend?—”

“Stop saying he’s my boyfriend.” My tone is sharp and low. “He and I are not in a relationship.” I drop into my usual seat at the dining table, Everett glowering as he takes the one across from me.

“He seems to think you are,” Everett hisses, his gaze flicking to Joey.

“He’s wrong,” I whisper back, my throat tight, just as Dad returns with a large bowl of salad.

“I’ll be back with the steaks.” He sets the bowl in the center of the table.

Anita sweeps in with mashed potatoes and green beans, her timing impeccable.

Joey drops into the chair beside me. Meghan sits on his other side. His hand slides onto my thigh under the table.

My entire body stiffens.

Everett growls low, the sound vibrating in my ears. I shove Joey’s hand away.

He leans close, his voice dripping with irritation. “Are you still pissed about Diana?”

My stomach flips. “So that’s her name, huh?”

“Stop acting jealous. We’re not exclusive, Bri.”

I bark out a laugh, bitter and sharp. “Interesting that you never mentioned we weren’t until now.”

His eyes flash. “You need to calm?—”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” I snap, my voice like ice.

Dad comes back with a platter of steaks, smiling like he doesn’t feel the tension suffocating the air. I pick up my water and take a long drink, hiding behind the glass, pretending I’m not breaking apart inside.

Everett’s gaze burns into my face, but I can’t look at him.

I know he sees everything, anyway.

Dinner starts with tension coiled so tightly it could snap at any second. Dad sits down at the head of the table, oblivious to the storm brewing at the table.

Joey switches on his golden boy smile like a light, asking Dad about the garage, nodding along like he’s hanging on every word. To anyone else, he looks polished. Perfect.

But under the table, his knee bumps mine.

I edge away.

“Everything’s been good at Glen Willow,” Joey says loudly for my dad’s benefit. “Coaches have been really impressed. Scouts are talking about next season. Might be my year.”

Dad grins proudly. “That’s great to hear, Joey.”

My fork scrapes my plate. Everett hasn’t said a word, but his silence is louder than anything else in the room. His jaw ticks. His knuckles are white against the handle of his knife. Every time Joey flashes that grin, Everett’s stare darkens another shade.

Joey leans close to me, his voice pitched low so Dad can’t hear. “Still mad?” His smirk is sharp, deliberate. “You look good when you’re jealous, Bri.”

I bristle, whispering back, “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” His grin widens as he reaches for the mashed potatoes, like he’s said nothing wrong.

Across the table, Everett’s knife scrapes against his plate. My eyes snap to him. His shoulders are rigid, his glare fixed on Joey.

Tom mutters something about needing to use the restroom, while Anita bustles after him, muttering something about checking on dessert.

Dad excuses himself to grab something from the kitchen, and the instant he’s gone, Joey leans closer, his voice dripping smugness. “You’ll calm down eventually. You always do.”

That’s when Everett finally speaks, his voice cutting like steel. “Maybe she wouldn’t need to calm down if you treated her like she deserves.”

The air shifts. Joey’s head jerks toward him, his smirk faltering. “Excuse me?”

Everett leans forward, elbows braced on the table, his gaze burning into Joey’s. “You heard me. She’s not some trophy you can drag around and ignore whenever something shinier catches your eye.”

The silence is thick. My pulse pounds so loud I can hardly hear anything over the sound. Meghan sits on the other side of Joey, not saying a word.

Joey laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “Who the hell are you to talk to me about Brielle?”

Before I can answer and stop this from escalating, Everett speaks. His tone is deadly and calm. “I’m the man who was there when she needed someone. Which is more than you can say.”

The room feels like it’s vibrating.

That’s when Dad walks back in, smiling with a basket of bread in his hands, completely unaware of the war about to break out at his table.