Page 49 of Braving the Storm
“What will it take for you to come home?”
That draws a cold laugh out of me and I pull the phone away from my ear, staring at the screen in disbelief.
“Briar… babe… are you still there…” His voice sounds as tinny as his pathetic whining.
“No. I’m hanging up this phone and I don’t want you to try and contact me anymore. We’re done.” My hands might be shaking, but I keep my voice firm and low. Not that there is anyone else around, however I’m conscious all the same that this is a small town, unlike in a big city where you overhear all kinds of random arguments over the phone between strangers in the middle of the day and on the center of the sidewalk, that kind of thing probably doesn’t happen here.
Not without causing enough of a commotion for it to be news all over town.
“Crisp is worried sick, too. She’s been trying to contact you.”
“God—Antoine—Can you just stop? Don’t waste your breath, we both know that’s a lie.”
“We care about you.”
“Yeah, so much caring. Were you thinking of me while you were balls deep in your secretary? Were you thinking of us when she sucked you off under your desk at the office?” I hiss into the phone. The rage of everything I discovered about his after-hours exploits burns hot and vicious up the back of my throat.
But I refuse to fucking cry over this asshole. I refuse to ruin my makeup and my day because of his lies and bullshit.
“Come on, babe. You know how it is.” He shuffles something around in the background. Papers or files. Shoving his alreadyabsent morals aside, perhaps. “You knew the deal between our families. You knew things weren’t going to be like a fairytale or some shit, but we can be good together. You’re a Lane, I’m a Montgomery. There are different sets of expectations for people like us.”
Oh, fuck him very much.
He and my sister could offer a PhD in gaslighting and manipulation.
“You know I’ve got PI’s on retainer all over the country. If you continue to avoid my calls, I’ll be forced to send out every bloodhound I’ve got looking for you. Do you really want to have to go through all that nonsense?”
“Are you done?” I suck in a deep inhale and close my eyes. The sounds of the quiet street fill my ears. Somewhere, there’s faint music drifting on the breeze and I hear chatter as a group of women walk out of the cafe.
“Where are you? I’ll fly to get you. Just come home, Briar.”
Those words send a cold shudder down my spine. That place is not my home. Antoine and my sister are the worst type of people, and I have no intention of going back.
“Actually, I’m late for coffee, gotta go.”
With that, I hang up, and turn my phone on silent.
I’m going on a date, and if I have my way, the names Antoine Montgomery and Crispin Lane can be dust in my rearview mirror.
Chapter 16
Iwrench my jacket off and toss it on the bench seat beside me. Reaching up to fist my hat, I lift it off and scrub one hand through my hair as I allow it to sit on the empty space beside me, too.
Today has been a fucking day.
I’ve spent half of it on the phone video calling with Beau, figuring out what needs done to fix up his new ranch venture while he agonized over five different shades of white paint and renovations that still need to be completed. The other half of my day has been spent convincing myself that Briar has been riding around in Westin Hayes’ truck for hour upon hour.
Or worse, that she’s been riding him.
Jesus Christ.
As I sit, gathering up the energy to actually move my ass inside, my radio unit fitted in the truck goes off. We’ve all got them as a form of communication for those of us who choose to live up here in the isolation of Devil’s Peak, and I could put money on the fact this call is either going to be from Colton Wilder or Sheriff Hayes.
“Stôrmand.” The familiar grunt of Colt’s voice fills my truck.
“Fuck you very much. When are you gonna give me a break with that?”
He chuckles. A noise I didn’t think I’d ever hear as frequently out of that asshole as I do now that Layla is in his life.
