Page 85 of Brides and Brothers
“Those men aren’t coming back in here,” Daisha said. “Not even the Petersons! That door doesn’t open until Amy gets home from her study session.”
Camille stared at the hollowness in Daisha’s eyes. She’d heard Daisha ask Benson to stop the fight and knew her friend was likely both angry and disappointed that he’d interpreted it as a directive to take Trevor out back and finish him off. Her gaze found the frightened eyes of each of the other women. Camille had had no idea her brothers-in-law knew how to fist fight or that their tempers were so easily ignited. The whole situation had been blown way out of proportion.
One sniffle followed another. Both Raina’s and Macey’s eyes were filled with tears. “The boys will be fine,” Camille said. “All of them.” She didn’t know if she was telling the truth because she had no idea if Trevor was going to have to check himself into the hospital by the time the Peterson brothers were done with him, or what sort of injuries they’d succumbed to themselves.
“This is the worst night of my life,” Raina muttered.
Macey hugged herself. “It’s all my fault. Daegan and Cade are going to be so mad. They’ll never want to talk to us again. With them out of the picture, we’ll probably have hardened criminals stalking us.”
Daisha put her hand on her forehead. “You’re right that you’re partially to blame, but so is Raina. And so am I for not talking you out of it.”
Emma wiped at her eyes. “My first date with the guy I’ve liked for months is over before it even started. And I threw a potato at his face.” She put her arm around Macey and hugged her. “At least we have each other, right?”
Macey leaned her head on her shoulder. “Thanks, but this time a friend doesn’t quite make up the difference.”
Emma sighed. “I know. Let’s just hope no one calls the police on us.”
They sat down in various spots in the family room, unease settling around Camille. Daisha collapsed onto a stool in the kitchen and motioned for Camille to take the one next to her. The silence was uncomfortable, but each was lost in their own misery. Camille picked up a potato and spun it in a wobbly circle on the counter. Would the Petersons come back? Would they call? What was she supposed to do? Wait an hour and then start calling the hospitals or the police?
Over the next hour, the girls separated into their bedrooms, leaving Daisha and Camille alone in the front room. Daisha curled up on the couch and put a pillow over her face. The last shred of hope that their evening could still be salvaged finally disappeared. The room was a disaster, and apparently it was up to Camille to clean it up. She picked up the broken lamp first.
Hadn’t this mess started with Camille bragging that she never had to clean while she was here? And Macey threatening to break a lamp? Camille and Daisha should’ve let her do it. It would’ve been less violent than what they had seen tonight. Once the glass shards from the picture frame and all the miscellaneous potatoes were cleaned up, she moved on to the kitchen. She swept up the small pile of dirt from the potatoes and wiped down the counters. She handwashed Benson’s cutting board and knife and, after drying them, slid them back into his pot. Exhaustion pulled at her eyes and her limbs. Time to go home and assess the damage there.
