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Waylon felt entirely too on edge to be kept up in the cab of a vehicle right now. He wanted to hit his punching bag to let off some steam or something. He felt the anger and all his emotions getting the better of him. This was his problem. This was his burden, his weight upon his shoulders day in and day out.
He scanned her other texts and saw the four returned texts from him to his brothers.
“She group messaged us, saying that she missed us tonight. We shouldn’t have let her go out. She needs us.”
“I know, Brody. I fucking feel the same way. She’s a beautiful woman. People take notice of her immediately, and that pisses me off to think that other men are hitting on her. If she’s with one of us, that won’t fucking happen,” Brody stated firmly.
“What do you think the message from Regan means?”
“I don’t know. We should ask her.”
Waylon scanned up toward earlier texts and as he read the last one before Amelia texted him and his brothers, he felt ready to explode.
“What the fuck?” He raised his voice. Brody immediately asked him what was wrong.
“Some fucking guy texted her.”
“What? Who?”
“It’s not labeled. The area code is not from around here. I think it’s New York.”
“What the fuck does it say?”
“She lied to us. She’s involved with someone or at least was recently. He wants her back.” Waylon slammed his fist down on the dashboard.
“What does it say, Waylon? Tell me now. If she’s playing us. My God, Waylon, if she is, I don’t know what I’ll do. I—”
“The text from the guy says, ‘It’s not over. I’ll give you some time to think about us. But you will be mine again, Amelia. I’m not giving up.’”
Waylon felt the pain in the pit of his stomach, but worse was the one in his heart. The pain in a place he thought was dead.
“Maybe it’s not what it seems,” Brody said but sounded as if he were trying to convince himself of his own statement.
“Maybe she’s just like most women. I’m getting to the bottom of this, immediately.”
* * * *
Amelia got out of the truck as Murphy opened the front door. Ricky helped her to go inside.
“I’m going to go take shower.”
She walked directly to her bedroom.
“Amelia!” She heard Waylon’s voice and swiftly turned toward the bedroom door. He looked enraged. His eyes were dark and angry, his fists by his side, and Brody stood beside him, arms crossed and appearing just as pissed off. The tears hit her eyes as her belly quivered in fear. They blamed her for this.
“Who the fuck is the guy?” Waylon yelled as he stomped toward her. Amelia was shocked at the anger in his voice as her back pressed against the wall behind her. The blanket dropped from her body. She saw Murphy and Ricky looking concerned and Brody was in a dead stare at her ripped skirt.
“Don’t hit me. Please don’t hit me.” She cried and slowly lo
wered to the floor.
“Who is he?” Waylon yelled from a few feet away.
“Waylon, you’re scaring her,” Ricky stated as he moved toward her.
“Get away. Get away from me, all four of you. Just go. Leave me now. I don’t want to see you.”
“Who is he?” Brody asked this time.
