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Stunned, I lie back, staring at the big rafters and the corrugated iron roof above.
What the hell just happened?
“Nora!” Fallon yells from below, right before a bunch of faces appear in my field of vision.
Simone props herself up on her elbow and accepts a hand up. She then reaches down for me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. “You’re okay. Come on, honey, you’re good. We both are.”
I groan. I’m getting too old for this. I already know I’ll be feeling aches and pains from that landing for a week.
“What happened?” Candice frowns, glancing at the bench. We’re all sitting on long wooden benches in the mezzanine, and the one I was on was at the very back with Simone. The legs on one end are splayed out to one side, completely snapped off from the seat.
Looking over her shoulder, I see the retreating back of the man who’d been sitting on the end of the wrecked bench. He didn’t look at me, didn’t speak to me, but when Jen jumped in my brother’s arms, he stood up with his fists clenched. He was muttering in what sounded like a foreign language. French, maybe? Italian? I couldn’t hear properly. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him kick the bench, heard a thump, but I didn’t realize what had happened until I was on the floor.
Whoever he is, he kicked so hard he broke the legs off. Why? I’d gotten the impression he was mostly watching my brother and Jen working, but he could have been with the women at the station next to them—the ones all in denim, who seemed to be burning things left, right, and center.
Was he mad that the ladies ruined their croak-whatever-thing? Or was it when Jen took a running jump and landed in Fallon’s arms?
Earlier, when he first sat down on the end of the bench, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I dismissed it as paranoia over everything happening with Slim. I see gangbangers everywhere these days.
My brother surges past the man just as the bench-kicker disappears down the steps. Fallon’s eyes are wild. He’s always been overprotective, as if he’s trying to atone for the mistakes he made as a teen. He never forgave himself for being a troublemaker.
“I’m fine, Fallon.” I groan, rubbing my tailbone. I’m mostly fine, although I seem to be bruising a lot more easily than I did a few years ago.
He grasps my arms, staring into my eyes before looking at the bench, then back at me. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, apart from the death grip you have on my biceps.”
He loosens his hold, then lets out a long breath. “What happened?”
“Some guy kicked the bench when the timer went off. He was mad about something. Looks like he broke one of the legs.” I nod to the broken bits of wood.
Fallon’s thick brows tug low over his eyes. “Must have kicked it pretty hard.”
Should I tell him that the man did it when Jen kissed him? I’m not sure that’s what caused the man’s outburst. He could have been angry about anything—another team not finishing, or the time running out, or some issue in his personal life. He’d been rocking back and forth on the bench and muttering a bit. He creeped me the hell out, but I know I’m oversensitive about that kind of thing right now.
So, I just shrug. “Yeah. He left right after it collapsed, so I assume he was embarrassed.”
A medic appears and insists on sitting me down to check me and Simone out, which I do with an overdramatic sigh. “I don’t need any more reminders that I’m getting older, people. A younger woman would just brush this off.”
“Time marches on, sweetheart,” Dorothy says, patting my shoulder in commiseration. “You’re just a young pup anyway.”
“I’ll be forty in less than a year!” I grimace. “Honestly, when did that even happen? I’m supposed to be married with two point five kids by now.”
Fiona gives me a sympathetic grin. “Doesn’t always work out that way, does it?”
Fallon combs his fingers through his hair, watching me, then glancing at the Four Cups crowd. “What’s Nora doing here, anyway?”
Candice arches a brow at him, cocking her hip to the side. “Well, we were going to leave her locked up in Jen’s jungle for the day, but I took pity on her when I went for today’s watering cycle.” The sass soaked into every word almost makes me burst out laughing.
I like her.
Fallon’s always been a bit uptight when things get stressful. He blames himself for everything. And now, he looks like he’s about to blow. “You should have called me. I could have driven her here.”
“You’re busy with the show, and I’m an adult,” I cut in. “I don’t need you to babysit me. Candice and the girls invited me out, and I said yes. Do you have a problem with that?”
Fallon sucks in a breath and slowly lets it out. “No, of course not. I just worry about you. We haven’t had a chance to talk.”
The last thing I want to do is talk, so I deploy my best weapon: deflection. “How about we talk about all the gray hairs you’ve got growing in your beard.” I flick his chin and—as usual—Fallon isn’t fast enough to dodge it. Ha!
