Page 17 of What I Should Have Felt (Anchors and Eagles #4)

FORD

A fter noting four different vehicles parked in the high school lot, I wandered away from the tall, red brick building and up a small hill toward the football stadium. Inside those metal bleachers that encircled the field, Azelie and her friends should be waiting.

By themselves. If I got up there and found O’Connor, there was a part of me that I worried I wouldn’t be able to keep locked away.

Protecting people I’d never met came rather instinctively to me, but this time it wasn’t someone I didn’t know.

This was Azelie, someone Colette cared about and loved. Someone I knew.

This was my home. This asshole was on my turf.

Coming for the very people that I’d left to protect all those years ago.

As silent as the air around me, I crept up the hillside.

Déjà Vu was my friend at this moment, because the last time I’d snuck beneath these bleachers was to meet another LeBlanc .

I figured I’d breach through the side, instead of just walking straight in through the main entrance beside the picket fence and the rundown ticket booth.

Just in case. As I wandered around the edge, sweat pooled on my neck in anticipation of whatever fight may occur.

The only strange thing about this moment was being alone.

I half expected some dark whispered comment from Bernie over the comms or some instruction from Dom siphoning into my ear.

But not even a potato bug crawled upon the cement that I crept across.

The metal of the bleachers was cold beneath my hand as I ducked underneath the crisscross of silver.

A stuffiness surrounded me as the air stilled, as if trying to hide my presence.

All of this was familiar. Every hair standing on end upon my body, the adrenaline pouring through my veins was a sensation I knew and craved.

Further evidence that avoiding conflict wasn’t something I desired as much as I used to. Was it preferable? Always. But I’d take a fight over running away any day if that meant taking care of the people that I cared about.

What a fucking foolish decision it had been to leave.

I was bigger than her parents, even then I’d been taller.

Maybe I could’ve handled it and won. Maybe I could’ve taken them on, but at what cost?

The control in fights I had now, I hadn’t possessed then, even if I’d been willing to stay and possibly fight instead of being killed.

Slowly, I weaved my way through the shadowed surroundings as teenage chatter met my ears. I paused, scanning for any sound of a threat or an adult, and immediate relief flooded my body. I braced a hand against a beam and allowed the brief worry to slither from my veins. They were fine.

“How long did you say it would take?” a young man said, his voice cracking from puberty, and I chuckled. I was not a stranger to that myself, though the last time I’d had any sort of moment like that was years ago.

“My mom said maybe fifteen minutes or less? So, about five more minutes and he should be here,” a girl replied. A girl I knew from listening to her speak to Colette, and my heart stopped in my chest.

Did she say mom ?

“Let me see his picture one more time,” another girl replied. I had to assume that was Macy, since Azelie had said Macy’s mom would take over a half hour, and she was the only other girl mentioned.

Creeping forward so I could see out from beneath the bleachers, I focused on the group.

Two boys and two girls. Azelie sat between the other girl who had sleek blonde hair pulled back in a tight, low ponytail.

She stared over Azelie’s shoulder, with the same nosiness as the curly, dark-haired boy on her other side, who inched closer to see the screen.

The sun beat down upon the red track encircling the green turf field in the center.

The blue paint upon the field goal posts was peeling, and I doubted they’d retouched it in the past ten years at least. The white lines on the track asphalt were a bit faded, but not terribly worn.

At least that had had some renovation because I could’ve sworn it was black the last time I saw it.

All four kids sat on the turf inside the ring, wearing matching running uniforms that I knew for sure hadn’t changed.

Colette had convinced me to join cross country our freshman and sophomore years, which I turned out to be really good at, and it was like looking in a mirror at these lanky kids who had yet to develop any muscles.

“I know him. My mom was talking about how the Thibodeauxs’ son returned the other day, and she pointed at a guy who looked exactly like that when we went into town,” Macy stated and leaned back against her palms, turning her face toward the sky.

“Isn’t your family, like, not cool with the Thibodeauxs?” the dark-haired boy asked.

Azelie placed her phone against the turf and curled her legs up to her chest. “Yeah. I mean, all my grandparents have been able to talk about lately is ‘the Thibodeauxs this, and the Thibodeauxs that.’ Honestly, it’s getting annoying,” she replied and plunked her chin against her knees.

Grandparents .

“And yet, your mom sent their son. The dude who left fifteen years ago for no reason?” the other boy said. He pushed some light brown hair away from his face, the shaggy strands coated in a thin layer of sweat.

Frozen in place, my hand cemented to the beam I braced against as nausea curled up in my throat. Colette wasn’t Azelie’s older sister. Colette was her mom. I briefly closed my eyes and then returned my gaze to the group of kids.

“I heard he left because he accidentally killed someone,” the dark-haired boy replied.

Azelie clicked her tongue. “You’re an idiot, Cory. If he’d killed someone, he’d be in jail.”

“Well, I heard he left because he—” Macy started.

“Y’all look like you’re lonely,” an older male voice sheared the casual conversation occurring.

I scanned the entire stadium to find it empty other than those four kids until a shadow caught my eye.

A figure emerged from around the bleachers through the main entrance.

He walked with quiet, slow footsteps, and I kicked myself for not picking up he was there sooner.

Though, I guess I was unusually preoccupied by the fact that Colette was Azelie’s fucking mom .

He swayed almost unsteadily onto the track with two more boys following behind like birds in a flock.

All of them had a similar look about them.

Three boys who were old enough to have some facial hair, old enough to not need adult supervision, and a chill swept down my spine as all three narrowed their gaze onto Azelie and Macy.

Shit. I prayed they simply had hit puberty earlier than normal and were nothing more than high school rivals or some such shit to these kids. Like the cool kids versus the nerds. These three guys had to be in some rival clique, right? Not sent by O’Connor.

“We’re fine, so bug off,” Cory replied, standing up.

I had to give credit to the kid, despite still being a skinny teenager, and definitely younger than the approaching assholes, he wasn’t afraid to assert himself.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” the stranger hissed and pushed greasy hair behind his ear.

“We’re fine,” Azelie stated again, and all three kids rose. “Let’s go.” She tucked her hand into Macy’s elbow and shifted to walk around the three strangers .

“Ah, where ya going? Don’t you remember us?” the man said again.

I inched forward to the edge of the bleachers, ready to sprint the couple of hundred meters needed and lay this guy out flat.

But I hesitated. Was Azelie as fiery as her mom and would get pissed if I stepped in?

Would she be embarrassed that she needed saving by someone who wasn’t one of those two boys with her?

“No, we don’t remember you. So fuck off!” Azelie snarled, and I sucked my bottom lip between my teeth.

Yep, just like her mom.

“Oh, come on, we only graduated last year, you have to know us,” the stranger replied.

Nope. Fuck, no. They were fifteen, and this motherfucker was a grown ass adult. To hell with how embarrassed Azelie might end up.

“We just finished our freshman year. Of course we don’t know you. So, leave, creep,” Thomas said, standing up beside Cory as Macy and Azelie quickly attempted to skirt around the side of the three new adults.

The ringleader threw out his arm and blocked their path with a wry smile. I shot out of my hiding place.

“Fuck off. I won’t ask again,” I snarled and stalked their way.

The eyes on every single kid widened, even the three “men.”

“Get lost, loser. Can’t you see we’re just chatting?” he called out at me, but took a stumbling step backward.

“Why would we chat with you?” Azelie hissed and hocked a huge wad of snot at the stranger.

Rage seethed behind his eyes as he wiped the loogie from his cheek .

Shit. As much as I couldn’t stop the smile from cracking upon my lips, I knew that look.

His focus ripped from me, and he glared at Azelie. “You little bitch.”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” I snarled, stopping the stranger from grabbing her arm.

He whipped his gaze back to me. “What are you going to do, old man? Hit me? Call the cops?”

With three more steps, I got right in his face and stared down at him. “You should fucking hope I call them. You should fucking pray that I call them because they’re the only ones saving you from me if you so much as touch a hair on her head.”

His pointy Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he took another stumbling step backward. Alcohol seeped from his skin, and that musty scent of weed. “I’ll—I’ll—” he stammered.

“You’ll be begging for them. Being in prison as a fucking pedophile would be paradise compared to what I’ll do if I see you so much as breathe in her direction again,” I sneered at him.

Red. Everything around me was red. Like a bull to a fighter, I was the bull.

Maddened by a type of devil I’d become familiar with overseas, yet here they were, in my hometown.

The beast that had been trained to obliterate men like this one clawed at the cage within me.

The steel bars keeping it at bay weren’t going to hold out for long.

“You—You’re—” he stuttered as he and his two companions took another couple stumbling steps back. This time, I stayed still, a barrier between the teenagers and the type of men I knew all too well. Creeps like them had hung around high school when I was a teenager myself .

“Call my bluff. Please,” I teased and tipped my head, keeping my gaze steady on the three of them, my hands curled into fists as they trembled with rage. “Apparently, the town already thinks I’ve murdered someone. Death would be a relief for what I’d do to you.”

With a squeak, he turned and ran. Not even bothering to glance back over his shoulder to make sure his two buddies were following him.

They were. But his ass blurred behind dust from how quickly he shot toward his car that had its bumper duct taped to it.

A gold, run-down Civic. A car that hadn’t been there when I’d parked my Harley.

The moment his buddies flew into the backseat of the car, the three of them disappeared back to whatever hole they’d crawled out of in a cloud of exhaust smoke.

Once again, leaving me filled with relief. And a smidgeon of disappointment. I was really itching to hit him.

At least it confirmed that the coach’s family emergency was real, not something orchestrated by O’Connor. Time to get Azelie back to her mom.

Her mom. Colette.