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I fold my arms. “Why not? Give me one good reason.”
“I can’t,” he explains, blocking the door. “Dad’s orders.”
“What? Why would he say that?” I say, a bit offended that he’d actually admit it was my dad’s idea to exclude me from this. “Please tell me it’s not because ‘I’m a girl and I should be doing girly things.’” I make quotation marks with my fingers.
“No. I don’t know,” he says, sighing. “Look, I know this thing we’re doing here is off limits for anyone but me, Ben, and Dad. Sorry.”
I cock my head and make a face. “Really, Danny? We used to do everything together. You, me, and Ben,” I say.
“Things change,” he says.
“They don’t have to change,” I say. “This is all Dad’s fault.”
His brows draw together. “He’s doing what he thinks is best.”
“By keeping me out? I don’t think so.” I try to pass him again, but he shoves me away.
“I’m serious, Dixie,” he says, his voice stern just like my dad’s. “This isn’t for you.”
I grimace. “Well, fuck you.”
His eyes widen.
I’ve never sworn at my brothers. But this is a special occasion, and I want him to know. It hurts, dammit. Dad keeps pulling them along, letting them in on everything while pushing me further and further away. I’ve had enough of it. I’m not here to play favorites.
Ben suddenly steps outside too and eyes both of us. I guess he was listening to our conversation. “It isn’t even remotely interesting, trust me,” Ben says.
As if that’ll deter me from getting inside that farmhouse and finding out what’s going on.
“I doubt that since y’all are so secretive about it,” I say, holding my head high. “But I don’t even care anymore. I’m done trying. I’m going to hang out with Brandon instead.”
As I turn around and walk away, their footsteps follow right behind me.
“Brandon? As in Locklear?” Ben asks with that same accusatory voice he always uses when he tries to play the big brother.
“Yup.” I won’t let them change my mind. Not this time.
“Fuck no. That Indian’s nothing but trouble,” Danny says.
I come to a screeching halt and spin on my heels. “Stop talking about Brandon like he’s a bad guy. He’s been nothing but nice to me. Seems to me like you are the one causing all the trouble,” I say, pointing my finger at his chest. “I’m tired of y’all constantly controlling my every move. First with Derek, and now with Brandon. I’m not a little girl anymore. I don’t need anyone to protect me.” I turn and start walking again.
“Dad says we have to stay away from the Locklears,” Ben says.
It’s not just a warning. It almost sounds like a threat, and I don’t like it one bit.
“Do you hear me?” His voice is even louder this time, and they’re both still following me.
“Yeah, I hear you, but I don’t care. As long as you keep hiding shit from me, I’m gonna do what I wanna, and no one’s gonna stop me,” I say as I jump into my truck.
“Dixie … really?” Danny says, raising his brow.
“Yes, really,” I reply with a deadly stare.
I’m tired of their fucking games. They’re always playing with me, trying to keep me from making my own decisions. I know they mean well, but … fuck.
We used to have so much fun together, and now look at us. Fighting over who gets to hang out with who, everybody keeping secrets from each other. And on top of that, my own dad doesn’t even accept what I like and dislike. He wants me to help on the farm but won’t give me the same privileges as my own damn brothers.
“I’m done,” I say in spite. “See you later.” And I shut my door and drive off.
Chapter Six
Brandon
I stare up at the sky, wondering if the stars would ever disappear forever. If this would be the last time I could ever see them. Much like the reserve.
I sigh and take a drag of my smoke. High up here on the rooftop of the shop is the only place where the streetlights won’t block the view, and it’s the perfect place to cool down after work. That, and my papa would probably kill me if he saw me smoke, which is why I do it up here. It’s one of the only places he’s too afraid to come.
Whenever he yells out the window for me to come down, I simply put out the cig and chuck it down to the streets below. He’ll never know it was me.
Besides, it’s not like I do this often. Maybe once a week. Just to take the edge off things.
My papa would probably curse the shit out of me if he ever caught me. He’d blame the teenage hormones, like everything else these days. It’s as if we’ve only disconnected further since we moved here.
