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I felt the note that Bain had left me burning its way through my pocket.
“What are you even talking about?” I asked. “Perfect son? Bain’s far from perfect.”
Well, that was kind of a lie.
He was perfect. Perfectly beautiful. Perfectly loving. Perfectly nice—when he felt like it. Perfectly… everything. Okay, he was perfect.
But that was due to my rose-colored glasses that I had on when it came to Bain McDempsey.
He’d always been perfect in my eyes.
The perfect man, for the imperfect woman.
And let me tell you something, self. You’re definitely not the perfect woman.
“You know,” Braxton sneered. “He’s always been the chosen one.”
“You’re delusional.” I rolled my eyes. “Your parents liked you just fine when we were together. They treated you both equally. They doted on each of you. Gave each of you everything you could’ve ever wanted. The only difference was, Bain actually made something of his life and you didn’t.”
Braxton’s eye twitched as he stared at me. “Stay away from him.”
“Or what?” I snorted.
“Or you’ll find out,” he threatened, leaning forward. “You only thought our marriage was bad. I can make it worse for you.”
No, no, he couldn’t.
“Braxton,” I sighed. “You’re beyond being able to affect my life. We’re happily divorced. I don’t depend on you for money—even though both your parents and Bain think I should’ve taken half your trust fund, as I was due. I don’t have any friends that belong in your social circle. And, let’s face it, I know your games. You can’t affect me anymore.”
I wasn’t a little girl anymore, thinking she deserved the worst of life just because of her depression.
Depression that seemed to be nonexistent when it came to Bain McDempsey being around. What was he, the vitamin D/sunshine spreader? Because that was usually the only thing that made me feel like a human being. Getting out and getting the sun on my face. No matter if it was forty out, or ninety-eight.
“I’ll figure out a way,” Braxton said. “You think they just allow permits in this town to grow on trees? Your practice will need patients. I’ll make it to where everyone and their brother knows that you’re shit.”
I scoffed. “Keep trying, Brax. That won’t work. And I don’t need a permit where I’m planning on building.”
Braxton’s eyes narrowed. “There is always something, baby doll.”
Baby doll.
God, I’d hated when he’d used that name.
Why?
Because Bain had called me that first. Bain had said that to me one day in the sweetest way possible. And then Braxton had gone and ruined the nickname by using it on me in the midst of a fight one day and from then on, I couldn’t stand hearing it.
Which he now knew.
“Braxton,” I said as I decided this conversation was over. “Go home.”
Before I could make it back to my car, where I’d planned on waiting him out, a familiar rumble started somewhere past my street, coming closer and closer.
Each passing mile as the din of the engine sounded, I knew that it was Bain.
He was close.
Very close.
And as that sound grew so loud that I knew he was rounding the bend, I had a feeling this was about to get interesting.
Mostly for Braxton.
Thirty seconds later, that engine shut off and Bain got off his motorcycle and looked from Braxton, who was still standing exactly where I’d left him, to me. I was standing next to my car now, which was about two large steps and a hop away from Bain.
His eyes raked over me from head to toe, then he moved his gaze back to his brother.
“Why are you here?” he asked.
“I could ask you the same,” Braxton drawled. “I’m the ex-husband. Maybe I had something to talk to her about.”
“Or maybe you’re here to interject your bullshit where it’s not wanted,” Bain countered.
I snorted, causing Braxton’s eyes to land on me.
“You know, I don’t need to fuck with you. I could always fuck with him,” Braxton said. “He’s the one on parole.”
Bain’s head tilted. “The sheriff’s not a dumbass like the last one was.”
He had a point.
Sunny struck me as very, very smart.
Despite his very colorful name, he had a head on his shoulders and he more than knew how to use that head.
Braxton’s bullshit wouldn’t fly with him and we all knew it.
Braxton just didn’t want to admit it.
“Listen,” Braxton said carefully. “This needs to end. I don’t know what y’all are going to be doing. I don’t care. But I don’t want it to happen.”
“The last time I asked you what you wanted, you blew up when I gave it to you,” I pointed out. “I’m sorry, but me caring what you wanted ended when I gave you the divorce you’d all but been pushing me toward our entire marriage. It’s over. Go home. Spend some time with your teenager. Be a man and show up for your kid. Don’t ruin this one.”
