Page 77 of Where I Should’ve Been

“What the fuck!”

Sharp, escalating, very male voices break the sound barrier of my bedroom wall, jarring my attention away from the blanket and drawing a knot in my brows instead.

My heart thuds, a sudden sense of panic building as I try to make sense of the argument between Bennett and some unknown foe. My ears are perked, my attention set, but because the honest people of the early 1900s cared about quality construction, I can’t understand a damn thing.

It’s all just…muffled. Like the parents on Charlie Brown.

I don’t like not knowing who Bennett’s opponent is—not a surprise since the ambiguity of the unknown has always been one of my biggest fears—and with the way Red Bridge does small-town vibes, it truly could be anyone.

Norah isn’t home yet from getting her nails done—at least, I don’t think—and Autumn went down for a nap a little over an hour ago. As the only hen left in the house and fighting a migraine at that, I chose seclusion in a dark room.

But I would’ve never guessed a street fight would break out in the living room.

When I toss my needles to the side quickly, my knot comes undone and unfurls all the yarn I’ve been weaving for the last half hour, the tiny piece of blanket I’d conquered promptly no more.

“Shit.” Moisture stings my eyes with raging disappointment I don’t understand. I already know Tad is right and Tom and Betsy don’t really need a blanket to keep them warm at night, but I am emotionally distraught.

My gosh, Breeze. It’ll be fine. You can literally buy them a blanket if you’re so inclined.

“Crying over a blanket for baby lambs. A blanket that wasn’t even looking good, at that,” I mutter to myself, annoyed. “Who am I, and what have I done with the tough-as-nails bitch from New York?”

I move toward the door and pull it open in one smooth motion, quickening my pace to a jog as the voices get louder.

I can’t make out what they’re saying yet, but the tone is not friendly. And to think, I left all my pepper spray in my place when I left New York over two months ago because I was certain the crime statistics in Red Bridge were rock-bottom low.

By the time I reach the hallway, my chest is tight and my morning headache flares into something heavier. But I squint against it and move on quick feet into the kitchen just as Bennett reaches out and pushes Logan, sending him back into the counter and bending his back over it like Gumby.

Logan is here? What the hell?

Logan’s face stutters, slipping into his old mask of trouble, and I know if I don’t get this situation in hand soon, poor Norah is going to come home to a bloody kitchen. I can’t believe my two freaking brothers are at each other’s throats. It’s been years since I’ve witnessed this, but then again, it’s been years since they’ve been in the same room.

“Hey!” I yell, pulling Logan up short from retaliation. His eyes flit to mine with the benefit of my surprise appearance, but Bennett uses the opportunity to land a sucker shove to his chest, banging him into the counter once again.

I jump forward, putting myself between them like I’ve done a million times in our youth and far too many times in my twenties and early thirties. Being the only sister to two rowdy brothers is a freaking job and a half, let me tell you.

“Hey! Stop it right now!” But even as the words leave my mouth, a dizzy wave rolls through me. I press a hand to my forehead, fighting the sudden spin of the room.

“Yell at him! I didn’t do anything!” Logan rebuts, a typical sibling declaration.

“You showed up!” Bennett spits back. “That’s enough, considering I told you I don’t want you at my fucking house.”

“I came to see Breezy, not you, asshole!” Logan shouts back, and his eyes move to me. “Breeze, come on. We need to talk.”

“No offense, Lo, but I don’t want you here either.” I shake my head on a sigh. “I don’t have anything to say to you.”

“See!” Bennett booms. “You are not fucking welcome here!”

Instantly, I regret my honesty as another rage-fueled screaming match starts up around me again.

“This isn’t your fucking business, Ben!” Logan shouts back.

“Not my business?” Bennett retorts on a sharp laugh. “You’re in my fucking home, so it is my business. And you’re not—”

“Ben, please. Stop it,” I implore when I see the bulging vein in the center of Bennett’s forehead appear. The damn thing is already pulsating. He’s beyond angry, and my patience is waning significantly as another wave of dizziness washes over me.

“Ben, please? Are you serious, Breeze?” Bennett retorts. “I’m not the one who showed up here to start shit! I’m not the one who destroyed your life!”

“I’m not here to start shit!” Logan roars. “I’m here to try to talk things out!”