Page 67 of Make Me Yours

“Quiet, Mark, a grown-up is talking,” I say, still grinning as I glance from face to stunned, increasingly worried face. “No? None of you? Well, no worries. If convicted, it’s up to five years in prison and five thousand dollars in fines. Fiveyears.” I chuckle. “That’s a long time. And I don’t think the prosecutor will have any problem getting a conviction with video evidence and all of you caught in the act, do you?”

“Please,” the blonde begs, her voice wavering like she’s about to cry. “My dad will kill me. Like, maybe for real. He kicked my brother out of the house when he was only seventeen for selling marijuana and that’s not even really a crime anymore. I’m so sorry, Mr. Tripp. I promise I’ll never do anything like this again.”

Ignoring her, I scan the rest of the group. Red doesn’t look so smug now. He looks angry.

Good, let him get angry. I don’t mind making another enemy.

I already have plenty in this town.

“So,” I say, motioning toward the parking lot, “I suggest you all hurry home and start shopping for lawyers. Good luck and thank you for stopping by.”

“We can clean it all up,” the blonde sputters, her arms shaking visibly as she motions toward the ruined deck furniture. “I can sew these and I can get beer out of anything. I was in a sorority in college.”

“Yeah, we’ll clean it up,” Greasy Pigtails says, ignoring her boyfriend when he nudges her in the side with his elbow. “We will,” she doubles down. “I work at the daycare, Mr. Tripp. If I get in trouble with the cops, even just for being here while bad things happened, they’ll fire me. I need that job, sir. Please, it’s the only thing I could find where they’d let me bring my son to work with me.”

A son, another innocent child, caught up in adult drama. It should make a difference, but maybe I’ve exhausted my empathy for the day.

Or maybe I’m just sick of this place.

Sick of its petty drama and sad grudges and the way this fucking town does its best to drag us all down to our own personal rock bottoms.

I certainly won’t be sticking around to watch my family reach theirs…

And that’s it. I’ve suddenly had it.

I’m done.

Done with Sea Breeze and done with facilitating the Tripps’ continued dominance of the fishing trade here. Done with coddling my nephew and done with trying to be the bigger man.

I’d rather burn it all to the ground than be trapped in this cage for another second.

“Then I suggest you find a way to pay for a good lawyer,” I tell the girl, not feeling the slightest twinge of conscience whenher face falls. If she were mother of the year, she wouldn’t be trespassing or destroying property, and she wouldn’t be dating the red-headed piece of shit who’s currently glaring at me like he’d like to start something.

Let him try.

I won’t be pulling any punches this time, and I’ve had enough medication that I would feel no pain as I pounded his scrawny ass into a wad of pulp on the pier.

“As for you…” I shift my gaze to my nephew. “I suggest you start looking for another job. As of Monday morning, you no longer work on a Tripp lobster boat.”

Mark’s mouth falls open so wide that one of the seagulls reeling overhead could pop its entire mouth inside to clean the back of his gums.

He sucks in air, gasping like a landed fish as he shakes his head. “No. No, Weaver, please. You can’t do that.”

“I can do whatever I want,” I snap. “I inherited control of the fleet. Which means it’s mine to staff, mine to organize, and mine to sell off if I so choose. And I so choose.” I stand taller, feeling a weight being lifted from my shoulders as I mentally run through next steps.

My more innocent family members will be punished along with the bad eggs if I do a mass sell-off of the fleet, but I can eliminate their suffering easily enough with a cash settlement from the sale and what’s left of Rodger’s estate. I don’t need or want my brother’s money. I’ll happily divide it among the people who deserve help, put them on the path to independence, and let the spoiled brats like Mark figure out the future on their own.

He’s due for some suffering in his charmed life. It’s past time he dealt with the consequences for his bad behavior.

Mark’s face is red now, and getting redder by the minute. “You won’t really sell, you can’t,” he says as his band of losers makes their way down the gangplank and scurries past me.

The blonde isn’t the only one in tears now. The big guy with the buzz cut and Tripp Lobster sweatshirt also has shining eyes and shame oozing from his every pore.

My conscience tries to rise from the cold depths where I’ve shoved it, but I remind myself that I was busting my ass at business school at this boy’s age, not vandalizing property, and ignore it. Besides, if this is the first infraction for any of them, they shouldn’t be punished too harshly. Likely, they’ll get off with a fine and a stern warning not to trespass or destroy property again.

“It doesn’t make sense,” Mark continues, his arm sweeping out to encompass the rest of the docks behind me. “This is what our family has worked generations for. You wouldn’t tear that all down for nothing.”

“That legacy means nothing to me. It never did.” I meet Mark’s cold gaze with a colder one. If he’s looking for a “who can be a bigger bastard” fight, I’m going to win. I always do. “As I see it, selling is best for everyone involved—a fresh start for our family and the town. And I walk away without any ties to a place, or people, I can no longer stomach.”