But Joey’s words echo in my head.
You’re not one of us anymore.
I look at the needle sliding into my vein.
He’s right. I’m not one of them.
I’m a mess.
But as Clara grabs my hand, squeezing tight as the needle slides in, I realize something else.
I might not be a Carson.
But I’m not alone.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Seth
I stepout of the command tent, the canvas flaps swinging shut behind me. The air is cooler now, the sun dipping low enough to turn the quarantine tape into slashes of burning copper against the grass.
Tex is beside me, his boots crunching on the gravel.
We find Joey by the water trough. He’s leaning against the fence, a cigarette dangling from his lips, the smoke curling up into the still air.
He looks like a stranger. The rodeo has hardened him, stripped the boyishness from his face and left behind something sharper. Angrier.
He flicks ash onto the ground. He doesn’t look at us.
“Where’s Billy?” Tex asks. He scans the yard, his jaw tight. “Did anyone see where he went?”
“I saw him heading toward the creek,” I say. It’s a guess, but an educated one. Billy runs when he can’t fight. He goes to water. “Probably drowning himself in the shallows.”
“Coward,” Joey mutters.
Tex stiffens. “He’s handling it.”
“He’s hiding,” Joey corrects. He turns to look at us, his eyes dark. “Just like he always does when it comes to her. He lets her walk all over him, and then he runs off to sulk.”
I feel the familiar prickle of irritation under my skin.
I’ve spent my whole life mediating between these two. I’ve spent my whole life making excuses for Joey’s temper and Billy’s silence.
But today, the excuse won’t come.
“Shut up, Joey,” I say.
He blinks. He seems surprised that I spoke. I’m the quiet one. The reasonable one. I’m not supposed to tell people to shut up.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” I step closer. The smell of his cigarette is acrid. “You don’t get to come back here after being gone for months, not answering calls, not checking in, and start judging how we handle things.”
“I’m here now, aren’t I?” he snaps.
“Yeah. You’re here to yell. To break things. To insult the woman who is trying to help us.”
“The woman who broke this family,” Joey corrects. He pushes off the fence. He towers over me, using his height the way he always does. Intimidation. “You’ve all forgotten. You’ve all gone soft because she came back with her tail between her legs, crying about her daddy.”
