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“That’s a lie. I’m not going anywhere. You’re acting a fool.”
“I don’t want you here.”
“Lie.”
“I’m going to hate you if you stay much longer.”
“Lie. Lance, there’s something I need to tell you if you would just—”
“Prescott, I’m not fucking done with you,” Mark rounds the corner of the bar as Channah continues to plead with him.
Lance turns to me without hesitation.
“Go, get in the truck.”
I don’t move.
“Got to say,” Mark drawls, his eyes on me. “I would love to settle the score, but it looks like slim pickings. My, my, how your standards have changed.”
In an instant, Mark is pinned to the brick of the building, his smile growing wider at the reaction he’s drawing from Lance. It doesn’t take much to recognize this is an ongoing war waged long ago. Point only proven when Mark spews more venom. “Still the same inbred fucking piece of shit you always were.”
I stare at Lance, shocked by his silence.
His eyes scream murder, but his lips remained sealed. And that’s when my stomach drops. “Your whole family is shit,” Mark spouts as Lance releases him and turns to me.
“Get in the truck, Harper.”
“He’s been drinking all day,” Channah attempts to excuse, pulling at his arm. Mark grins over to me, and I can feel the coil in Lance’s posture as he keeps his own gaze zeroed on me. “This guy wore my hand-me-downs for years. My mother gave him my old clothes. I guess it’s only natural that he tries to second hand my fucking girl.” Lance grimaces, but not at the insult, at my reaction.
“Had to fuck her, huh?” Mark says, taking a menacing step forward.
All the blood leaves my face. Channah looks over to me, and I can feel her confusion, see the question in her eyes. It’s the same damned question every woman’s piqued gaze asks. What’s he doing with you?
“Had to fuck her to show me. You sure showed me, didn’t you? But what exactly did you prove? Didn’t get drafted, your ranch is in shambles, you’re bankrupt. You aren’t going anywhere, Prescott, and so you just couldn’t keep your filthy hands to yourself.”
“Mark!” Channah begs, tugging at the sleeve of his shirt while trying to drag him back.
Lance remains mute, his eyes trained on me. Blinding anger shines through, but it’s mixed with fear. It’s then I see everything he’s been hiding.
I saw all the signs, I recognized them because I’ve lived them for years.
I close my eyes as the shock wave runs through me.
Not Lance. Anyone but Lance.
Introvert. Mute. No social media. Tight inner circle.
He’s been dealing with this his whole life, and he didn’t want me to know.
A part of me dies inside as it dawns on me why. Mark isn’t Lance’s nemesis, but his bully.
Reeling, I grab his bicep and squeeze. “Let’s go.”
Eyes forward, Lance stalks toward his truck, and I follow. So does Mark, who easily discards Channah with the jerk of his arm.
“You’re a shitshow, always have been. Won’t ever amount to nothing.”
Silence. Unbearable silence is Lance’s answer and it rips me apart.
