Page 115 of Waves of Fury

I give myself a shake at the dark thoughts. Aside from my guilt trips, my thoughts never drifted too far into the abyss when I was with Tyler.

He was a lifeboat.

One I desperately needed.

I’ve clung to him ever since that fateful day the wave of fury devoured the city of my home. Now it’s time to swim on my own. I can’t let miserable thoughts consume me. I’ll drown and I’ve come too far to do that.

The hours pass by dreadfully slow. I’m grateful for my new sneakers thanks to the people of Goodland. The shoes are a perfect fit and don’t rub blisters on me like my boots did. I’ve tied them to the back of my pack, though, because if I encounter any other terrain besides asphalt, I’m going to need them.

Images of Tyler’s sexy smile keep flashing in my mind. It’s torturous and takes great effort to push them away. Focus on the road ahead. Stay the course.

I travel along the interstate until it’s nearing dark. I’ll need to seek shelter for the night, rest, and regroup for another couple of days of travel. It’d be great if any of the cars I passed were in working order. Alas, that’s not my luck.

My mind drifts back to the past, but this time way back.

“I’m a cowboy like Dad!” Knox says, running around the living room, completely oblivious to the tension around him. “Pew! Pew! Pew!”

Dad’s glare never leaves me and he doesn’t play along with his five-year-old. Refraining from looking my father in the eyes, I turn my attention to Knox and pretend to hold my chest in pain.

“You got me,” I choke out playfully. “I’m dead.”

He giggles before running over to the windows for the umpteenth time to see if it’s almost dark yet. I promised to take him trick-or-treating, since Dad won’t and Mom’s in bed with a migraine, but not until the sun goes down first.

“Kellen.”

The tone of Dad’s voice drips with anger. Not only am I dealing with my sexuality, but I also have to make my father understand that I don’t want to do this ranching gig. It’s not me. I’ve put in my time, but I’m nearly a grown-ass adult now. It’s time to start acting like one and go my own way. Mom thinks he’ll understand eventually if I just give him some time to acclimate. Sometimes I think she’s a little delusional when it comes to that man because he’s set in his ways, the rest of us be damned.

“Dad,” I say with a small sigh. “Can we talk about this tomorrow?”

I don’t have to look at him to know he’s grinding his teeth together. I can hear the distinct sound enamel on enamel that never ceases to make my skin crawl with worry. He’s pissed and when he’s pissed, you never know if you’ll get the back of his hand or the fiery sting of his leather belt. Mom runs interference when she can, but she’s not always successful, nor is she always around.

Knox interrupts again, this time with a lasso he expertly tosses over my head. I manage to grab hold of it before he hogties me like one of the calves. Sure enough, he yanks on the rope and it tightens around my freaking neck like a noose.

“Enough,” Dad barks at Knox as I quickly pull off the rope. “You’re about to get sent to bed instead of going off with your brother.”

Chastened and with tears welling, Knox releases the rope and runs out of the room. He struggles to keep the plastic holster belt from sliding down his waist as he books it out of here. As relieved as I am he got out of here before angering Dad, I bristle at my father’s undivided attention.

“I need you here at this farm. With your family,” Dad says coolly. “It’s where you belong. Whererealmen belong.”

The last part stings, but I’m still reeling from the first part of his words. Is he kidding? We’re no family. Me and Knox are heirs to Dad’s empire he’s created. He wants us to take over one day not because he loves us. No, Dad just wants his legacy to go on.

I hate it here.

Guilt sluices through me, making me feel oily and gross. I just want to get the hell out of here tonight and spend time getting candy with my kid brother. Why does everything have to be so big with Dad? Can’t we ever get a night off from this constant barrage of interrogation? Mom attempts to defend him, saying he’s only hard on the outside but soft in the center. I’ve never seen one bit of softness on that man. Ever.

“Yeah, sure,” I mutter, deflating at the defeat washing over me. “You’re right.”

He’s not, but I’ll say anything to get out of his presence right now.

“That’s what I thought.”

With those words, Dad rises to his feet, calls for Knox to get ready to go, and then disappears out the back door.

The relief that floods through me is brief.

Seconds later, Knox the cowboy is back with play guns blazing and threatening to shoot my balls off if I don’t get moving.

I snort in amusement.

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