A throat cleared behind me.
Every drop of blood in my body turned to ice water.
Calvin's face went from amused tooh shitin about half a second, her eyes flicking over my shoulder with somethin' that looked almost like pity. That's when I knew—really fucking knew—that I was about to get my ass handed to me.
I turned slowly, like maybe if I moved careful enough, I could somehow undo what I'd just said.
Rhett stood there—hulking arms crossed over his chest, booted feet planted wide—glarin' at me with the kind of fury I hadn't seen since we were kids and I'd broken his favorite fishing rod.
And behind him?
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.
Sassy.
Her face had gone sheet white, those green eyes I'd looked into every mornin' for ten years now bright with unshed tears. She was starin' at me like she was seein' me for the first time, like I'd just ripped off a mask and revealed somethin' monstrous underneath.
The silence stretched between us, thick as molasses and twice as suffocating. I could hear my own heartbeat thunderin' in my ears, could feel Calvin shifting uncomfortably behind me, could see the exact moment Sassy's shock morphed into somethin' raw and wounded and furious.
"Sass," I said, my voice comin' out rough with an apology I didn't know how to voice. My head tipped to the side like the gesture alone could somehow soften the blow, could take back the words that were already carvin' fresh wounds in her chest.
But it was too late. Way too fucking late.
"Fuck you, Brody."
The words hit like a slap. Sassy had never—not once in twenty years—looked at me with such complete disgust.
She spun on her heel and stormed toward the house, her flip-flops slappin' against the gravel. Every step felt like another mile between what we used to be and whatever we were supposed to be now.
I started to follow her—instinct, muscle memory, whatever—but Rhett's voice stopped me cold.
"Don't."
The single word carried enough venom to drop a horse. I watched Sassy disappear through the front door, heard it slam behind her hard enough to rattle the windows, and somethin' inside my chest cracked clean in half.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
"Will you ever stop fuckin' hurtin' that girl? Jesus, Brody." Rhett's voice was low, dangerous, the kind of tone that used to mean someone was about to eat dirt.
That's when the guilt morphed into somethin' uglier.
Anger.
Because he was right. I hated him for it, and I hated myself more.
"Why would you want me to?" I shot back, all my pain and self-loathing spilling out as pure venom. "If I don't fuck up, then you can't ride in on your white horse and save the fuckin' day."
Rhett's expression shifted from anger to confusion so fast I almost felt sorry for him.Almost.
"What the hell are you talkin' about?"
"Don't." I stepped closer, getting in his face the way we used to when we were teenagers and everything could be settled with fists. "Don't stand there and pretend you don't know exactly what I'm talkin' about."
His confusion looked real as shit, which only pissed me off more. How could he not see it? How could he not know that every time Sassy had a problem, every time she needed someone, it washisnumber she dialed?Hisshoulder she cried on?Hisarms that held her together when the world fell apart?
"Don't be a fuckin' moron, Rhett. May have taken me a while to see it, but I ain't blind."
Understanding dawned across his features like a sunrise, followed immediately by somethin' that looked almost like panic.
