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“Point taken, Gray,” he muttered, turning back to the mare, clearly hoping to avoid further conversation.
I leaned against the wooden rail of the stall, crossing my arms as I watched Walker's profile. He was focused on a spot somewhere past the hay bales, his jaw set in that way he had when he was trying to come up with an excuse.
“Come on, Walker,” I prodded, unable to mask the edge of suspicion in my voice. “The ranch doesn't run itself, and you've been harder to find than a needle in a haystack.”
He let out a non-committal grunt, finally meeting my gaze for a split second before looking away. “Been busy with stuff. You don’t need to know all about everything, Gray.” His hand moved to the bandage, an unconscious gesture, and quickly away again.
“Stuff,” I echoed, not buying it for a second. The word hung between us, hollow and unsatisfactory. That's when it hit me—Walker had been conspicuously absent the night of the dinner party. The same night someone had decided to take their frustrations out on her HVAC unit.
“Busy the other night too?” I asked, my tone casual but probing. “You missed quite the family dinner. Like old times.”
His reaction was subtle but telling—a slight hitch in his breath, eyes darting to the side as if he could sidestep the question physically. It didn’t confirm my suspicion, but I could feel the slow burn of irritation creeping up my neck.
“Didn't feel like socializing,” he mumbled, focusing on the mare again. Her coat gleamed under the dim stable lights, a stark contrast to the shadows playing across Walker's face.
“Uh-huh,” I said, drawing out the words. My fingers drummed against my bicep as I thought about Eryn's amber eyes clouded with concern the next morning, the way she couldn't fathom why anyone would target her little piece of paradise. Never in a million years would I normally suspect my brother of doing such a thing. But he was acting cagey as hell.
I shook my head slightly. If Walker had a part in it, we were going to have more than words.
I stepped closer, my boots scuffing the sawdust-covered floor as I zeroed in on the bandage wrapped clumsily around Walker's hand. “What really happened there?” My voice was low, a notch above whisper, but it carried the weight of my growing frustration.
“Cut myself fixing the fence, like I told you,” he replied, his tone breezy. Too breezy. The guy couldn't lie straight in bed if he tried.
“Fixing the fence?” I echoed, skepticism lacing my words as I crossed my arms over my chest, the fabric of my flannel shirt tightening against my biceps. My gaze stayed locked on him, searching for the telltale signs of deceit I knew too well. “You were gone all evening and now you show up with a busted hand?”
Walker shuffled his feet, a sure sign his walls were going up. “Like I said, Gray, I cut it on the damn wire. Believe me or not, I don’t give a shit.” He turned away, pretending to check the mare's hooves—a feeble attempt to avoid confrontation.
“Wire cuts don't need wrapping like that,” I pressed, moving into his space, my height advantage casting a shadow over him. “And they sure as hell don't explain why you skipped out on my dinner. You know Mama and Gran noticed you weren't there.”
“Everyone's always noticing something 'bout me,” Walker shot back, irritation flashing in his light blue eyes. He stood up straight, squaring off against me as if he could diminish the fact that he was hiding something with sheer bravado.
“Because you're always up to something!” I couldn't help raising my voice, filling the stable with the sharp crack of my anger. “And this time, you've got a bandaged hand and no alibi for the night someone messed with Eryn's property.”
“That’s what this is about? You’re really accusin’ me of damaging her property? When I was the one who told you to give her a chance in the first place?”
“I don’t know what to think, Walk, you’re acting shady as hell and you won’t tell me what happened.”
“Back off, Gray,” Walker warned, his jaw setting hard as his hands clenched into fists at his sides. His defensiveness was like a red flag, waving high and clear, signaling there was more to the story.
“Or what, huh?” My temper flared, hot and unyielding as the midday sun. “You gonna throw a punch with that hand? Or you got other secrets you're nursing along with it?”
His silence was damning, and the air between us crackled with tension, thick as the leather reins hanging on the wall. Something wasn't right, and every fiber of my being knew it. Walker was my brother, but I'd be damned if I let his recklessness threaten what we'd built here at Red Downs.
“You're not the sheriff ‘round here, Gray. I don't need to report every move to you.”
“Maybe you should when it affects the ranch,” I shot back, my hands finding the rough wood of a stall door, holding on as if it could keep my temper in check. “When it affects our family, or the woman I love.”
His eyes rounded in surprise at the confession, but we were both too worked up to have a heart to heart right now.
The tension spiked, the stables ringing with the sharpness of our raised voices. He stood his ground, and I mine, both of us unwilling to give an inch.
“Damn it, Walker! You think this is some sort of game?” The muscles in my arms flexed, my fists balling so tight I could feel my nails digging into my palms. I wanted to shake some sense into him, wanted him to understand the weight of responsibility that kept me awake at night.
“Life's one big game, brother,” he drawled. “Isn’t that what you think I’m all about? Fun and games? Nothin’ to me but that.” His words were spit out with an underlying current of rage.
“Is it now? That’s how you think I feel?” I gritted out through clenched teeth, fighting the urge to close the distance between us, to confront him physically as my emotions threatened to boil over. There was a fire inside me, fierce and unyielding, fueled by years of being the one who had to be strong, who had to uphold the legacy of Red Downs Ranch.
“You show me you do every damn day.”
