Page 13 of Make Me Trust Again (Bluebonnet Creek #3)

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHASE

“Why are you grinning like a creep, Foster?” Gavin Durran asks, a deep scowl on his face as he hoists his rifle higher.

“Not all of us are grumpy assholes, Durran.” Lucas chuckles easily as we stammer over the uneven terrain.

But that was Lucas Foster for you. The jokester of our little unit. The one who always saw the good in people and the light at the end of the tunnel. No matter how long or how fucking dark the place was.

“Not all of us are cheeky dumbasses, Foster,” Gavin throws back dryly.

My fingers curl into a fist. “Do you really have to be such a jackass?”

Those piercing light eyes turn to me, giving me a pointed once-over, but I don’t look away. The guy’s an asshole of epic proportions, has been from day one.

“Defending your bestie, Williams?” he mocks. “What’s next? You boyos will hold hands?”

My teeth grind as I fight the need to slam my fist into his face, but Lucas jabs his elbow into my side in warning. His dark brown eyes fix on me. “Ignore him. Just a few more days, and we’re getting out of here.”

This has a few heads around us nodding, and some of the animosity and the building tension seeps out of our group.

“Fuck, yeah. I’m so ready for that,” Sam, another one of our unit members, chimes in, rubbing his hands together.

“What you gonna do?”

“Go back home to my girl. I got the ring before leaving, so I can have something to look forward to.” Sam tips his chin at Lucas. “What about you?”

“My sister is graduating soon.” His grin widens, pride shining on his face. Lucas always talks about his genius sister and how freaking proud he is of her. “I hope to give her a surpri ? —”

His words are cut short by a blast. My head snaps back, helmet hitting the back of the truck so hard spots appear before my eyes.

All the air is kicked out of my lungs, leaving the burning sensation filling my gut.

My body feels heavy and weightless at the same time as the truck goes flying.

I blink furiously, trying to figure out what the fuck went wrong. But there is only fire and pain.

I sit upright, my chest heaving as I fight for breath. My mouth is dry, my sweaty skin making the shirt cling to my flesh. I swallow hard, and I swear I can feel the heaviness in my lungs from the sand in the air.

It’s all in your head.

I take in the space around me.

The old armchair.

The pictures hanging on the walls.

The light from the TV illuminates the darkness of the room.

The knitted blanket that slipped to the floor from my tossing and turning.

Nightmare.

It was just a nightmare.

A snout nudges my leg, a soft whine registering through the pounding of the blood still ringing in my ears.

I let my hand fall on Shadow’s head, finding comfort in her solid strength as she rests her head on my thigh.

Lifting my free hand, I run it over my face, feeling the prickle of stubble on my jaw as I stare at the ceiling, fighting for breath.

The vivid images still play in my head on repeat, making the bile rise up my throat.

Cursing, I push to my feet. My muscles feel stiff from falling asleep on the couch, but I ignore the pain as I walk to the kitchen.

The floorboards groan under my weight as I make my way to the fridge, not bothering with light.

Grabbing a bottle of water, I drain it in one go, but it barely makes a difference.

There is no erasing the feeling of sand filling my mouth.

Just like there is no erasing the demons playing in my mind, taunting and waiting for their chance to strike.

My fingers tighten around the bottle, squishing it in my fist as I fight through consistent ringing in my head.

The ringing makes the pressure in my chest grow heavier. A knot forms in my throat, making it hard to breathe.

The bottle slips from my grasp and falls into the sink. I grip the counter to steady myself, my fingers itching to do something. I’m wound up, balancing the fine line, and I know that at any moment I can tip over.

And there is only one way I know how to deal with that.

Only one way to fight this darkness swirling inside me.

Destruction.

The loud ringing of my phone startles me from the daze I was under for God only knows how long. Panting, I grab it from the counter and check the caller ID, cursing softly as I connect the call.

“Can you tell Becky to stop riding my ass?”

“Hello to you, too, little brother,” I say sarcastically in a way of greeting—not that he cares—as I take in the space around me.

The kitchen is bare. The old counters are out in the backyard. The wallpaper has been ripped from the walls, as were the old, creaking floorboards.

The room is completely empty.

Some of the weight falls off my shoulders as I suck in a long breath, feeling like I can breathe for the first time today.

The place hasn’t been renovated in years. Not since before my dad died. Rebecca didn’t want to do it before because we weren’t sure how our mom would deal with the change due to her Alzheimer’s. But she wasn’t here anymore, so now is as good a time as any.

“Like seriously, doesn’t she have anything better to do than bug me all the time? I’m not going back to college.”

“I don’t think that’s the issue,” I say evenly, my gaze fixed out the window.

“I think her constant nagging about me getting my head out of my ass and rethinking my life choices suggests otherwise.”

“Considering you dropped out of college with one year left to go and decided to enroll in the police academy out of the blue, I think she might have a valid reason to bug you.”

“Pot meet the kettle.” There is no missing the sarcasm in his voice. “If I remember correctly, somebody could barely wait to finish high school before joining the military.”

A muscle in my jaw twitches. “That was different.”

“So you’d like to think.” Matthew’s deep grumble echoes in my ear. “You’re just happy that she’s focused on me, so she’s ignoring your grumpy ass.”

“I’m not that lucky,” I scoff. Just then, as if I called it, I catch a glimpse of a white truck slowly taking a turn toward the cottage.

If I were actually lucky, I wouldn’t have a new neighbor living on my property, now, would I? But I don’t bother saying that out loud because I don’t want my brother to start asking questions.

Thankfully, Matthew is on a roll. “Like seriously, shouldn’t she be focused on her own family now? She has a husband and a kid; she should leave us alone.”

“Have you ever known Becs to leave anybody alone?”

Our sister couldn’t help but meddle.

There is a short silence, followed by my brother’s sigh. “Guess not.”

“She’s just worried about you, kid. She loves you, God only knows why, since you’re an annoying little brat.”

“Fuck off. Besides, I’m hardly little. I’m probably taller than you are now.”

“Only in your dreams, kid. Not that it makes any difference. To me, you’ll always be my baby brother.”

This has him groaning even louder. “You’re an ass, Chase. I don’t even know why I bothered calling you.”

“Because you’re too afraid to talk to our sister, and you wanted me to run interference with her instead? It’s as if you forgot she can multitask just fine.”

Matthew grumbles under his breath. “I guess you’re right on that one.”

“Of course I’m right, dumbass. But seriously, get back to Becs and be nice . She’s just worried about you. You know how she is.”

“I’m sure you say that when she gets to the ranch and tries to kick you out of your house. When was the last time that happened again, by the way?”

“I went out just this morning.”

“And talked to real people?” he challenges—the little asswipe.

“Yes—”

He interrupts me before I can finish. “That aren’t connected to your work, therapy, or store employees?”

I grind my teeth, irritated by the fact that he knows me so well. “Go figure out your life, Little Brother.”

I hang up, but not before I hear his parting words shot right back at me. “Sure, when you figure out yours, old man.”

I glare at the screen as it goes black.

As the youngest of us, he’s had it the hardest. First, he lost Dad, then I left to join the army, only for our mom to be diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer’s.

He lost both his parents before he was in high school, and on top of that, he has two older siblings who had their own shit and demons to deal with.

Is it even strange that he is fucked up in his own way?

I run my hand over my face, feeling the headache brewing behind my temples from the conversation. Or maybe it’s from the lack of sleep. Fuck if I know.

Letting out a sigh, I put my phone down and exit the house.

The hot June air slams into me the moment I step under the bright sun. The familiar burn reminds me of another place and time. The scorching heat on my skin makes my uniform stick to my flesh. The thick, sandy air closing my lungs.

Shadow brushes against my leg, snapping me back to the here and now.

Home.

I am back home.

Shaking my head, I descend the stairs, the old wood creaking under my feet, just another thing to add to my to-do list.

Since I’ve been having trouble sleeping lately, I’ve thrown myself headfirst into remodeling the kitchen. There is a fresh coat of paint on the walls, and I’ve just finished installing the new flooring.

Placing my goggles back on my face, I turn on the sander and get back to work on the kitchen counters. I’ve removed the original color. The ugly butter yellow is old and peeling off, so now I’m planning to polish and repaint them before putting them back inside.

I’m focused on the work, my eyes fixed on the machine in my hand as it smooths over the wood, the soft buzzing echoing in my ears. I’m almost done with the second counter when the hair at my nape rises at attention.

From the corner of my eye, I can see Shadow’s ears perk up. My fingers tighten on the tool as I slowly lift my head and take in the space around me, trying to figure out what caught her attention, when I finally spot him.