Page 50 of The Way We Are

“Did your father do that?” Regina asks, her words strained through a tightened jaw. She expresses her concern in the same heartfelt way Savannah did weeks ago when she thought the scars on my abdomen were compliments of my dad.

I shake my head, denying her statement while also re-covering the cut she’s glaring at with my hair once more.

Realizing Regina won’t accept a non-verbal reply to her question, I say, “My cut is the consequence of me being an idiot.” Since I’m not lying, my statement comes out honest.

Regina tightens her arms under her chest, then stares at me, gauging the honesty of my statement. “I’m going to arrest him one day,” she confirms, believing the pain in my eyes is associated with my dad.

Although most of the torment will always belong to him, he isn’t solely to blame for the sadness in my eyes the past five weeks. Some of it lies on Savannah’s shoulders.

“I just need him to make one mistake, and I’ll have him,” Regina murmurs, frustration echoing in her tone.

“I know,” I agree, nodding my head. “That’s why he’s behaving. He knows you’re watching.”

“He’s not the only Carter I’m watching,” she fires back, her tone leaving no doubt her comment was a warning.

She drops her arms from her chest, loosening her domineering stance. “I like you, Ryan. Considering the household you were raised in, you’ve turned out to be a good kid. But if you are out here doing what I believe you are doing, you're going to get arrested. You are going to do hard time, and you're going to leave your mother defenseless.”

Her first two warnings don’t ruffle my feathers, but the last one scares me shitless. Every night I’m away from my mother sets me back a few hundred dollars. Luckily for me, the reward has so far outweighed the penance.

My eyes dance between Regina’s when she warns, “This is your last chance, Ryan. Get out before I force you out.”

She walks to the bed of my truck before spinning around to face me. “Make sure your taillight is fixed first thing tomorrow morning.”

My brows furrow, confused by her statement. “My taillight is broken?”

Plastic splinters the roadside when Regina’s flashlight swings into my taillight. Her hit so firm, she shatters the frail material without too much effort. “It is now.”

When I glare at her, shocked as fuck she damaged my truck like a criminal, she mutters, “Now you’ve got an excuse as to why you were pulled over. Would hate for your friends to think you tattled on theirillegalactivities.”

My heart now pounds in my temples.

Stealing my chance to issue the stream of lies filtering through my mind, Regina walks back to her marked police car, slides into the driver’s seat, then drives off. Her speed is so excessive, my truck wobbles in her aftermath.

I stand at the roadside for what feels like hours but is more minutes, muted with shock. She knew way more than she should—way, way more.

“Did she smash your taillight?” Brax asks when I slip into the driver’s seat of my truck.

Too shocked to speak, I merely nod my head.

"What the fuck? Why would she do that? We should have arrested her. Marshall law her ass!" He turns his eyes to the pitch-black night. "Are there any cops in this town who aren’t corrupt?"

He continues jabbering on for the next half a mile, whining about underhanded men, and how we should go back to the gun-wielding days when sheriffs ran the town.

His rant only stops when, just as Regina had suspected, a sleek black sports car pulls up to the side of my truck to demand I pull over. The pounding of my pulse grows when I notice it is Isaac sitting in the driver’s seat.

Feigning ignorance, I pull my truck to the curb as requested. Just as I had done with Regina, I remain seated in the driver’s seat as I scan the cab of my truck. I don’t know what I’m seeking; Isaac knows what I was doing tonight, as he was participating right alongside me.

"What was that about?" Isaac asks, jerking his head in the direction Regina's police cruiser traveled.

I swallow to clear the nerves from my voice before lying, “Broken taillight.”

Brax’s eyes rocket to mine. He stares at me in utter shock, as stunned by my lie as me.

Like a light bulb switching on, reality dawns on his face two seconds later. The crinkle between his brow smooths as a grin etches onto his prickly mouth. “He’s lucky he brought me tonight. She nearly gave him a ticket... until I sweet-talked her out of it.” He dusts his shoulder as if he's pushing off tickets.

Isaac chuckles. He’s not impressed with Brax’s swooning capabilities; it's the chuckle of a doubtful man. It was the same laugh he used when I arrived with Brax in tow this evening. Isaac is so suspicious of strangers, he introduced himself to Brax under the pseudonym he uses while fighting: Max Levingston.

After staring at me long enough sweat beads on my top lip, Isaac asks, “What was your take from tonight?”

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