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"I want you to go," was all he said in response.
The finality in his voice stung. It was like we were kids again and he was dismissing me. But even as kids, he'd never actually done that. He’d joked around about me following him and asking him so many questions. But he’d never told me to get lost. Not after he’d called me Silver Spoon the one time. After that, he’d never called me any names like that. He'd never told me to leave him alone because he had to work or because I was bothering him. He’d never made fun of the clothes I wore—that I’d been expected to wear, actually—or my obscene lack of knowledge when it came to everything horse related. He’d been patient and kind and considerate.
"Xavier, if you need to talk about it…"
"I don't," he snapped in response. "What I need is to get some fucking sleep. Maybe you forgot that I was up half the night searching for your high-and-mighty ass because you got it into that thick head of yours to go out for a run in the Wyoming woods during a fucking storm."
The reminder of our differences in station, and what he thought of me, was enough to have me turning tail and running out of there. Figuratively, anyway. I did somehow manage to walk out of the room.
Once I got back to my room, I dropped down onto the bed and told myself I needed to get my ass back on track. I was here to solve a problem. Uncle Curtis's problem, not the dick's in the next room. I reminded myself he’d been in prison for a reason. My father hadn't been a saint, but he hadn't deserved what Xavier had tried to do to him.
Tomorrow would be a new day and I’d tackle those boxes of receipts with new gusto because the sooner I got out of Eden and back home where I belonged, the better.
Chapter 8
Xavier
"So is this how it's going to be?"
Brooks's voice cut into the hammering I was doing. As tired as I was, knowing he was once again in my presence ratcheted up that near constant need for him that I'd been feeling from the day he’d arrived in Eden. He hadn't been there even a full week yet, but he'd uprooted my life in practically every way. It'd been two days since the night I'd once again attacked Brooks. I still couldn't think of that moment without wanting to vomit.
I used all the self-hate and frustration I was feeling and drove the nail into the wood with just two hits of the hammer.
"What do you want?" I asked without looking at him. I didn't need to. I could sense he was behind me, but surprisingly, I wasn't as tense about that. I was tense, yes, but not because I was worried about him attacking me from behind. I'd already seen enough of the Brooks I’d known as a kid to realize that he would never do something like that. Yes, he’d come at me that first day, but I suspected that had been driven by pure impulse and nothing else. Brooks was smart enough to find a different and more permanent means to get me off Black Hills Ranch and away from his uncle. I was just waiting for that particular shoe to drop. It was only a matter of time.
I drove another nail into the lumber to make sure it was secure, then turned to grab another from the box. I chanced a quick look at Brooks and could see he appeared as frustrated as I was feeling. Admittedly, I liked seeing that. Not because I enjoyed knowing he was frustrated or irritated, but because I liked that he was showing his true emotions. That mask he’d been trying so hard to wear when he’d arrived, the one that said he was a tough guy who meant business, was slipping more and more often. It had pretty much been nonexistent the night he’d come into my room.
The night he'd seen the truth of what I'd become.
I was beyond ashamed of my behavior that night. But it hadn't been particularly surprising. I supposed I should've somehow warned him that waking me up was never a good idea, especially if I was in the midst of a nightmare. Hell, I should've just had the balls to put locks on the doors and use them. If I could just get over that fucking weakness, none of this shit would have happened.
"Uncle Curtis said you're staying out here now," Brooks said. I could practically hear the distaste in his voice. It wasn't surprising considering how bad the foreman's house looked. I'd already gutted the main bedroom and was in the process of moving the walls outward so the room would be more spacious and open. Curtis had given me free rein to do what I wanted with the building. The plan had been for me to live in the main house while I worked on the foreman’s house whenever I had the time, but with Brooks sharing the same space and him always being just a handful of feet away, I couldn't do it.
