Page 12 of Wait in the Truck
“He came back?” The fact that Rhett has guessed that much doesn’t surprise me. “Tell me he didn’t.”
Working my jaw to the side, I stare down into my coffee mug. Finally, I lift my head. “He beat the shit out of her, Rhett. Found her huddled in a ball between the dumpsters in the alley.”
Rhett stares steadily at me for several seconds before biting out, “Mother. Fucker.” He wets his lips as he shakes his head in disbelief. “How? Where were you?”
“She went to take the trash out. When she didn’t come back, I went to check on her. That motherfucker waited until she was all alone.”
“That slimy piece of shit,” Rhett grits out. “Is she okay?”
“I took care of her. Took her home. She was so banged up, we ended up leaving her truck and bag at Boozin’ Boots because she didn’t want to walk back inside.”
The more I tell him, the more Rhett looks like he’s about to stomp out of here to go find Toby himself. And as much as I appreciate that, the memory of my brother going after Sage when she ran to the bar’s bathroom also grates on my nerves. I sigh. Even with all that fresh in my mind, Rhett is the one I can really count on when the wheels fall off. We’ve been there for each other more times than I can remember, whether it was kids picking on me at school orfistfights when we were older. He’ll help, I know he will. I just hope he’s ready for this… since there’s no Toby left to deal with. Unless we count his dead body.
I clear my throat and rub a hand over the heavy stubble on my cheek. “I could use some help later this morning.”
“Talk to me.”
“Oh, just whenever Billy texts me back to tell me it’s okay, I’d like to grab her things, and like I said, we left her truck there, so I want to bring it home for her.” At the reminder of her upset and fear, my insides twist uncomfortably. It’s a tough call as to whether I’ll ever forget the events of the last six hours, but at least he can’t ever touch her again.
Rhett sighs. “I wonder if I’ll see her later today. I’ve gotta go back to check on the mare and her foal.”
“She might not venture far from the house for a bit. Gonna need some time off work after the beating she got.”
“Is it that bad? Fuck.” He sucks in some air through his teeth. “I could kill that fuckin’ bastard.”You don’t say…“But yeah. We can swing into town, no problem.” Exhaling hard, he pushes back his chair and stands. “I’m gonna head to bed, see if I can catch a few hours of sleep.”
It’s now or never. I rub my hands over my thighs before getting up and crossing to him. “Actually, I have one more little thing I could use some help with.” Our eyes connect, and mine bore into his so he knows I’m not fucking around.
His brows knit together. “Yeah. Okay.” He pauses, waiting on me.
“Come on outside for a sec. It’s easier to show you.” On our way out, I glance back at him, figuring I have to start somewhere. “Do you remember that thing we did when we were younger when we’d be trying to get out of trouble with Grandma Jo and we would help each other. No questions asked…?”
This particular brotherly tactic had begun one time when we were wrestling in the living room like we were on WWE SmackDown. Rhett had shouted, “John Cena!” as he came down on top of me, and we’d wiped out Grandma Jo’s favorite lamp in the process, smashing it to pieces. We told her the dog did it and never spoke about it again. Ever since, whenever we need to communicate that we have each other’s backs, but we’re not discussing a damn thing, we simply say?—
“John Cena.” He stops, and I have a feeling the blood has just drained from his face. “Kade… what the fuck did you do?”
I hesitate at the back end of my truck, pulling down the tailgate slowly, but keeping my eyes trained on my brother. “Did you get around to burying that dead calf yesterday?”
Rhett frowns, rubbing his temples with his right hand. “No. Why?”
I pull back the canvas just enough to allow him to seethe bungee cord-wrapped tarp. I don’t say a word, simply let him process for several seconds.
“Kade, please tell me that’s not what I think it is.”
I shrug, working my jaw to the side as I peruse my handiwork. “I did what everyone else wanted to do. Don’t look at me like that. Not two seconds ago, you said you’d like to kill him.”
“Figuratively, Kade, not literally.” Shaking his head rapidly, he blusters out, “There’s a dead fuckin’ body in our fuckin’ truck.”
“John Cena, Rhett. Johnfuckin’Cena.”
Rhett rubs both hands over his face, seemingly trying to process the mess I’ve created. “Are you fuckin’ serious? You’re certifiable.”
“We own thousands of acres, there are dozens if not hundreds of animals buried on this property.” I give a nonchalant shrug. “What’s one more pig?”
“Kade. We own acattleranch.”
As we drivethrough field after field, I steal peeks at my brother in the rearview. I’m in the Chevy with Toby hanging out in the back, and Rhett’s trailing me in the skid steer with the dead calf. It’s as if he’s pulled a mask downover his face to disguise his true feelings about the situation at hand. Stony. That’s how I’d describe his expression. He’s not giving a damn thing away.
But if I know my brother, I’d say he’s confused by his own feelings on the matter. Did I kill that bastard rolling around in the back of my truck? Yes. And is Rhett pissed about it? Definitely. However, I can tell he understands why I did it. He may even be questioning if he’d have done the same damn thing. When it comes down to it, I have no doubt Rhett would make a similar choice, though I’m unsure he’d enjoy it as much as I did.
