Page 10 of Wild Horses

“Warren!” His shout of my name is sharp and cutting.

“Sir?” I curse myself for the automatic reply.

He chuffs, then says, “All you have to do is set this right. A quick shareholder meeting, apologizing for the… ugliness of the situation, and we can put this behind us. It may say Phillips Construction, but that doesn’t mean the company has to stay in the family.”

Disowning me and keeping the company from me have become his go-tos. It’s becoming clear, as I refuse to come to heel, he has no idea how to approach me. His word has always been law, but the more I defy him, the more his weakness shines. Putting a smirk into my words, I say, “Family? It’s funny you’d call us that.”

In the background, my mother’s appalled voice sounds. “Warren, of course, we are a family. Think of how much your father and I have done for you.”

This, more than anything else, tests my temper. “Here’s what you’ve done for me. You’ve shown me how to manipulate people, how to bulldoze and bully my way into getting what I want. How to never treat my own children.” I pause and let out a mirthless chuckle. “I should thank you for that last one.”

“Apologize to your mother. Now.” The heat and anger in my father’s words would have blistered me in the past; now, they simply warm my bones.

“No, I don’t think I will. It’s you who should apologize,sir.”I put years’ worth of disdain and disillusionment into the honorific. “You were and are wrong, and I’m done standing by while you alienate and abuse my sister.”

My mother’s scandalized gasp has me rubbing my temples. How did I let things get to this point? How was I so blind to their true natures?

“Don’t worry, Mother. No one is around to hear the conversation on my end. I know that’s what you’re actually concerned about. And it is abuse. Emotional, at least. I just hate that it took me so long to wake up. You’re goddamn wrong for it, but so am I for not protecting Tuesday years ago.” Guilt eats at me, and I rub the heel of my hand against my sternum. “Do what you will. Cut me off, remove me from the company. I don’t care.”

The words are out of my mouth before my brain can process what I’ve said. I wait for regret. Panic. Fear. Instead, there’s a lightness, an easing of the rock in my chest and tension in my shoulders. It’s a startling realization to find I mean what I said.I don’t care.

For the first time in my life, apart from the night I stood up for Tuesday, I genuinely don’t care what my parents think.

“You’re making a mistake. Mark my words, son.”

I can’t stop the scoff that slips from my throat. “Let me be clear: whatever control you’ve had over me is done. I’m not afraid to stand on my own. I’m smart, capable, and have a tidy bank account. There’s nothing you can hold over me.”

Shedding the weight of my parents’ expectations is easier than I ever dreamed. Why didn’t I do this years ago? For so long, I’ve convinced myself I wanted this life, to take over Phillips Construction and be the man my parents molded me to be.

Is this how Tuesday feels? No wonder she never wants to leave Trail Creek.

“This conversation is not over, Warren. If you think you can simply dismiss your mother and me this way, you’re sorely mistaken. I’ll make it so no one in the metroplex will touch you. If there’s no one to do business with, then you can’t branch out on your own. How will you find contractors and suppliers? Do you think they’d forfeit my business to take a chance with you?”

My harsh laugh sounds brittle. “I hope one day you grasp what you’ve done. How far you’ve pushed your children, to the point you have nothing and no one left.”

With nothing else to say, I hang up, send one last text to Tuesday in case our parents reach out to her directly, then put my phone on Do Not Disturb. My palms are sweaty, and I’d probably set off alarms if someone measured my blood pressure, but I fucking did it.

I parse through my father’s threats. They aren’t idle; I know that much. I’ve observed from the wings as Warren Phillips crushed competitors with smear campaigns and blackball tactics. Leveraging his multi-million-dollar business to crowd out the market. But it’s oddly relieving. I don’t want to takeover Phillips Construction. I don’t want to do anything with construction.

What do I want? That’s a question I can’t answer yet, but the thought of unemployment isn’t as frightening as I expected. A glance at my watch has me jogging toward Dr. Panter’s office. The ramifications of what I’ve done can wait. I’ve got a PT session, a cute-as-hell cowgirl, and my entire future waiting for me.

CHAPTER FIVE

laramie

I not-so-subtly crane my head, once again searching over the empty machines and unfamiliar faces around me. It’s ten minutes into the time slot War and I share, but he’s a no-show. As more time passes, the sour feeling in my stomach intensifies. Where is he?

Something light and fluffy sets loose in my chest when I spy broad shoulders, ending in a tapered waist. That same something instantly flitters away when I realize the hair is too dark, the arms not quite as toned.

Ugh. What the hell am I doing? I shouldnotbe scanning the room for a glint of red in a head of light brown hair. Wondering why he’s late. If he’s going to show. No, I should concentrate on my exercises. Not remembering War’s parting words about him being a problem solver, and how they stuck with me for way longer than they should have. As in over multiple self-induced orgasms and fantasies.

Scolding myself, I go back to my shoulder lifts.Get it together, Laramie.Physical therapy is not the place for some meet-cute with my other half.

I’m here for one reason: to regain my strength so I can compete again. To salvage what I lost. The last thing I need is a delicious distraction, like War Phillips, keeping me from being one hundred percent focused on my goals.

“So, Laramie, how are you today?”

My heart skips a beat. I swear, Dr. Panter needs a bell.

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