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Celeste cowers guiltily.
I hold my arm out in front of Theo to keep him from jumping the asshole, while my eyes trail back over to June. Her arms are crossed over her chest, covering the low-cut neckline of her dress. My anger bubbles, knowing she wore a skimpy dress for the son of a bitch I’m trying to prevent Theo from bludgeoning to death. I grit my teeth. “Consider this a warning, Wyatt,” I bite out, returning my attention to the man still smirking, his arrogance thick and heady.
Theo pushes through my arm barrier. “What the fuck, Brant? No. Absolutely fucking not. He’s not getting off that easy.”
Wyatt’s grin stretches as he steals a glance at June. “Not anymore, thanks to the party crashers.”
I let Theo go, and he flies.
“Theo!” June finally speaks, dashing over to the brawl. “Stop, damn you!”
I grab her by the arm, pulling her back before a flying fist accidentally clips her. “Get in the car,” I tell her, watching as the ambient orange flames light up her doe-eyed expression. “Now, June.”
She blinks, hesitating briefly, then tugs her arm free of my hold. Her features morph from contrition to contempt as she paces backward through the sand.
One of Wyatt’s friends separates the two men before I can jump in, severing the escalating altercation. Wyatt swipes a smattering of blood from his lip, laughing through his weighty breaths. “I think you broke the law, Officer,” he sneers.
“And here I was, trying to break your face.”
Wyatt releases an unamused chuckle, then rolls his neck, pinning his attention on me. His grin curls. “Little Juney’s all grown up now, huh?” Sweeping his gaze over my shoulder to where June retreats, he taunts, pitching his voice so she hears him, “She’s got some real porn-star titties on her.”
My blood pressure instantly spikes, my muscles locking. I feel fury swimming through my veins, and I know Theo can sense my unraveling because he quickly throws his own arm up to block me from pouncing. I swallow. “What did you just say?”
“I said your sister has nice tits.”
Everything inside me screams at me to react.
Defend June.
Keep June safe.
Protect June at all costs.
My eyes lock with Wyatt’s, and he just stares at me, waiting, begging for me to make the first move. He wants me to. I’m his target, and he knows my weakness.
I step forward, endorphins rippling with the prospect of a fight.
But Theo blocks me again. “Don’t, Brother… This fuckhead isn’t worth it.” Wyatt whistles under his breath, while Theo shoves me backward, slapping one hand on my chest, the other gripping my bicep. He knows I don’t let my anger loose; he knows my history, my childhood promise. He’s protecting me in the same innate way that I’m protecting June. “Get Peach out of here. I’ll handle him.”
My gaze flicks to Theo, my jaw tense, my throat tight. I nod slightly and move away. “She’s not my sister,” I mutter to Wyatt, pivoting around until I’m stalking toward June, who stands idly in the sand a few feet away.
Wyatt laughs with icy disdain, calling out, “Yeah, you wish she wasn’t your sister.”
I freeze, eyes meeting June’s as the cords in my neck pulse and thrum. Her chest heaves with every swift breath, her cheeks flushed pink.
What the fuck is that supposed to mean?
Choosing to ignore the barb, I press forward, shifting my attention to my car parked at the edge of the beach. I don’t look at June as I move past her, repeating, “Get in the car.”
She follows, reluctantly dragging behind.
I yank open the door to my beat-up Corolla which has somehow managed to survive five brutal Midwest winters. I’ve been saving up for a more reliable vehicle, something with four-wheel drive. Maybe a Highlander. It’s one of the reasons I haven’t moved out of the Baileys’ residence yet. While I scored a decent job in the kitchen at a popular restaurant outside of town last year, and I could probably afford to get my own place, I haven’t quite committed yet.
Because of finances.
Yeah, that’s part of it, sure. It’s hard to make it in this state with the high cost of living and outrageous property taxes. I should make sure I’m 100 percent prepared to be fully independent. It’s the smart move.
But when June opens the passenger’s side door and plops down on the seat, using an unnecessary amount of force to pull her seat belt into place, I know that’s not the only reason.
