Page 31 of From the Wreckage
His eyes flash. “You need to calm?—”
“Don’t tell me what to do,” I snap, my voice like ice.
Dad comes back with a platter of steaks, smiling like he doesn’t feel the tension suffocating the air. I pick up my water and take a long drink, hiding behind the glass, pretending I’m not breaking apart inside.
Everett’s gaze burns into my face, but I can’t look at him.
I know he sees everything, anyway.
Dinner startswith tension coiled so tightly it could snap at any second. Dad sits down at the head of the table, oblivious to the storm brewing at the table.
Joey switches on his golden boy smile like a light, asking Dad about the garage, nodding along like he’s hanging on every word. To anyone else, he looks polished. Perfect.
But under the table, his knee bumps mine.
I edge away.
“Everything’s been good at Glen Willow,” Joey says loudly for my dad’s benefit. “Coaches have been really impressed. Scouts are talking about next season. Might be my year.”
Dad grins proudly. “That’s great to hear, Joey.”
My fork scrapes my plate. Everett hasn’t said a word, but his silence is louder than anything else in the room. His jaw ticks. His knuckles are white against the handle of his knife. Every time Joey flashes that grin, Everett’s stare darkens another shade.
Joey leans close to me, his voice pitched low so Dad can’t hear. “Still mad?” His smirk is sharp, deliberate. “You look good when you’re jealous, Bri.”
I bristle, whispering back, “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?” His grin widens as he reaches for the mashed potatoes, like he’s said nothing wrong.
Across the table, Everett’s knife scrapes against his plate. My eyes snap to him. His shoulders are rigid, his glare fixed on Joey.
Tom mutters something about needing to use the restroom, while Anita bustles after him, muttering something about checking on dessert.
Dad excuses himself to grab something from the kitchen, and the instant he’s gone, Joey leans closer, his voice dripping smugness. “You’ll calm down eventually. You always do.”
That’s when Everett finally speaks, his voice cutting like steel. “Maybe she wouldn’t need to calm down if you treated her like she deserves.”
The air shifts. Joey’s head jerks toward him, his smirk faltering. “Excuse me?”
Everett leans forward, elbows braced on the table, his gaze burning into Joey’s. “You heard me. She’s not some trophy you can drag around and ignore whenever something shinier catches your eye.”
The silence is thick. My pulse pounds so loud I can hardly hear anything over the sound. Meghan sits on the other side of Joey, not saying a word.
Joey laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “Who the hell are you to talk to me about Brielle?”
Before I can answer and stop this from escalating, Everett speaks. His tone is deadly and calm. “I’m the man who was there when she needed someone. Which is more than you can say.”
The room feels like it’s vibrating.
That’s when Dad walks back in, smiling with a basket of bread in his hands, completely unaware of the war about to break out at his table.
CHAPTER 22
Brielle
Dad setsthe breadbasket in the middle of the table, humming under his breath like he hasn’t just walked into a minefield. Joey’s quick to plaster on his golden-boy grin, leaning back in his chair like nothing happened. “This looks amazing, Mr. Kincaid. Thank you for inviting me.”
“Thank you, Joey. And you’re welcome.” His eyes sparkle, a proud smile curling his lips as he turns to me. “Anything for my kiddo.”
