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“Just because you’re miserable doesn’t mean you have to make the rest of us that way,” he said, his voice rising.
She shoved in her chair and rounded the table, prying her now crying son from Mr. Dixon’s arms. “If it weren’t for you, we’d have had a mother at all these Sunday dinners you missed.”
Whoa. That was unbelievably harsh.
Holt recoiled.
“Marlow.” Andrew had been mostly silent, letting his siblings argue, but I’d never heard such a severe tone.
“Why don’t you say what you really mean?” Holt asked as if his brother hadn’t interjected.
“What? That it’s your fault Mom left us. Or that you should have stayed on the other side of the country. Because I could go with either.”
“That’s enough,” Mr. Dixon hissed, stepping between the two of them.
Holt’s fists clenched at his sides as he glowered at his sister. Hurt and anger radiated from him, but he held his tongue.
I touched his arm, and he flinched. “Let’s go,” I said softly.
For a moment, he didn’t move. I gripped his bicep and gently tugged. Holt relented and stormed toward the door without a word to anyone else. I gave Trish a look over my shoulder, conveying we’d talk later. She nodded once, her hands knotted in front of her.
“You okay?” As soon as I said the words, I wanted to take them back.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Holt asked stiffly.
His strides were long and quick. I struggled to keep up, somehow holding on as he led me down the street.
“A lot of awful things were said back there.”
“Truth hurts, doesn’t it?”
Chapter Eleven
Holt
Baker wanted to push.
I felt it.
Yet somehow she kept from doing it. I was too pissed off to fully appreciate that.
I unlocked the door to the apartment, held it open for her, and shut it with a satisfying slam. The one beer I’d had at dinner didn’t even scratch the surface of my need. I went straight to the fridge and pulled out two bottles.
I untwisted the cap, offering it to Baker. Reluctantly, she accepted. I opened my own and downed half of it in one swallow.
She stared at me as I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.
“Whatever it is you want to say, now’s not the time,” I warned.
She bristled before she straightened. “If you want to talk about it, I’m here. If you don’t, I’m here too.”
I flashed a saccharine smile across the kitchen at her. “You know what I want? A long, hot shower. If you want to join me, I won’t lock the door.”
Her lips parted, a satisfying little gasp of air escaping. She didn’t bother to remind me that I still hadn’t repaired the door and itcouldn’tlock. I polished off my beer and set the empty bottle on the counter. My eyes dared her to follow me before I shoved off the cool granite.
As I moved down the hall, I shed my shirt. Damn my sister. She’d be the first to admit she was a bitch, but this was a new low. I’d never once doubted our relationship. Now?
I didn’t know where we went from here. Sure, we fought like all siblings. We’d both said things we didn’t mean before. But I’d never seen today coming. She’d never attacked so viciously. Why now after all these years?
