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I knew what he was talking about. Between the loss of his wife and the prospect of being confined to a wheelchair for the rest of his life, our father had been volatile to say the least. There’d be days where he would be swimming in grief and other days where he’d be cursing me, God, and anyone who would listen. He’d lashed out physically at me on more than one occasion.
“So when Dad told me right after you woke up that you’d been drinking that night and that you’d refused to hand over the keys when he’d told you to…”
“What?” Nolan interjected. My head snapped up at the same time and my brother’s voice dropped off.
“He told you he tried to stop Dallas from driving that night?” Nolan asked.
Maddox looked confused. “Yeah, he said he and mom only got into the car because they were afraid for your safety. He said he kept begging you to pull the car over.”
Pain exploded in my chest and I bent over at the waist to try to quell the intense pressure.
“And you believed him?” I heard Nolan snap. To me, Nolan said, “Baby, let me take you home.”
I nodded because I was done.
I was more than done.
“Wait, what do you mean?” Maddox asked. “Why wouldn’t I have believed him?”
“He was your brother, Maddox,” Nolan bit out. “Did you think to even ask him what really happened that night? Did any of what your father said even make sense? Dallas never drank. He never went against your parents!”
I settled my hand on Nolan’s arm to try to settle him down. He shifted his eyes to me and took a deep breath. “Sorry,” he murmured, then put his arm around my waist.
He was in the midst of helping me back to the passenger seat of my truck when the sound of an engine broke the silence around us. A mustard-colored, late model sedan was making its way up the driveway, though it was struggling a bit in the heavy snow. The car pulled next to my truck. I couldn’t make out much about the driver other than a mop of black hair, but the car was filled to the brim with garbage bags, loose clothes, and a couple of sleeping bags.
There was also a kid in the back.
The driver said something over his shoulder to the kid, then got out of the car. I was taken aback by his appearance. He was young – late teens or early twenties at best. His raven-black hair fell in waves across his forehead and his dark blue eyes were surrounded by heavy eyeliner. There was a hoop piercing of some kind on his lower lip and large gauges in his ears. His fingernails were painted several different bright colors. He was wearing skinny jeans and a long-sleeved purple shirt with some kind of band logo on it. His feet were buried in the snow, but I saw nothing to indicate he was wearing boots.
“Shit, it’s cold,” he muttered as he tucked his hands up under his armpits. He grinned and then looked around at the three of us. His smile faded as he seemed to pick up on the tension in the air. His eyes lingered briefly on Maddox. My brother was staring at the guy like he had no clue what to make of him.
I was in the same boat.
“Holy fuck, is that a wolf?” the guy said as Loki came around the car and began sniffing him.
“Can I see?” a small voice said as the back door opened.
“Hey, no, stay in the car,” the guy said. “It’s too cold out here for you.”
“No, it’s not,” the voice said, and the guy had no choice but to hold the door for the little boy as he staggered out of the car. I estimated him to be four or five years old. He, at least, was dressed for the elements. His parka had characters from the Disney movie Cars on it, and he was wearing rain boots which, though not ideal, at least kept the snow at bay. A red knit cap covered hair that was the same dark shade as the guy’s. Loki immediately went to investigate the little boy. The guy kept a close watch, but he didn’t panic as animal and boy checked each other out.
“What’s his name?” the boy asked.
“Loki,” Nolan said. “What’s your name?”
“Newton,” the kid said without looking up. He was clearly fascinated with Loki because he laughed when Loki licked his face, then began gathering up handfuls of snow and throwing them in the air to see if Loki tried to catch them.
“Can we help you?” Nolan asked the guy.
“Um, yeah, you’re Nolan Grainger, right?” he said as he shifted his eyes to Maddox once more. I couldn’t blame him – my brother looked ready to kill someone. If I hadn’t been pissed at him, I would have told him to stand the fuck down.
