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“Weston, is everything okay?” I quietly asked, placing a hand against his arm. He clenched his fists and nodded once, stiffly. “I don’t believe you.” Pulling my hand off of his sleeve, he glanced at the house. An escalade and truck were parked out front beside a few other vehicles, the exact two that had whizzed past us earlier.
“They could’ve been hurt, seriously hurt.” His eyes snapped back to mine. “You could’ve been hurt.” His calloused hand raised, brushing a tickling strand of hair off of my bottom lip.
“True, but we’re all fine,” I whispered. He nodded, though it seemed to fall on deaf ears as his face held stoically still.
Without another word, he turned around and marched quietly to the front door. I trailed along, feeling it best to leave him in his thoughts. A lot had occurred within the past hour or so. Butch was mad at him, he’d hit a couple deer, and then we’d nearly been hit by his family. Plus, obviously there was no alone time left before he would have to string some lights on the houses with Keaton.
I wish I could somehow get him to believe that I didn’t really care if we were alone on a date or not. I simply enjoyed being with him, but he seemed to have this idea stuck in his head that things had to be perfect.
Nothing in life was perfect, a lesson that, believe it or not, he’d taught me.
Weston ripped open the door, exposing that warmly lit interior of a home that I’d last seen on Thanksgiving day. It was crowded, filled with new cardboard boxes and a large tree in between the sitting area and kitchen. It was untouched, not a single ornament sparkling on the pine needles. There wasn’t a speck of decorations glittering upon the walls or standing on shelves. We were less than two days away from Christmas Eve and not a decoration in sight. Until Millie squealed, and her four-year-old fingers ripped open one of the boxes.
There they were. Twinkling inside were mounds of exactly what was missing. Soon, everyone followed suit, opening containers, pulling out strands of tinsel and jingling bells. I watched in awe as they moved in unison to begin trimming the tree with ornaments and lights of all kinds.
Until Weston marched up to his mother and glared at her. “What were you thinking?” he coldly said, and the room silenced. His face was twisted in hurt, his eyes full of this softness and concern his voice didn’t reflect.
“Weston?” Nancy lifted a brow, her eyes darting between Jeb and her son.
“You drove home, yes?” Weston stated, and she nodded. “Then do you not realize how hurt you could’ve gotten?” He swung around and pointed at Cash. “Or you! There were kids in your vehicle, and you just sped on past!”
I remained silent against the wall.
“That was you in the truck?” Cash stepped around Pearl, his hand sliding down her arm. That signature red hair that two of their three kids also had was messy and untamed at the moment.
Weston sighed, his jaw tight. He wasn’t angry, even if it seemed like it. No, this felt more like pent up frustration and concern bubbling over as a result.
“Look, the truck we passed had this dent in the door. I knew it looked like—” Cash continued, and Weston shook his head, silencing him.
“This isn’t about the truck. A door can be easily fixed. This is about the fact that someone could’ve been seriously hurt.”
“You’re the biggest hypocrite I’ve ever met pretending like this is why you’re upset,” Butch suddenly grumbled, rolling his eyes. He crossed his arms and stood up from the box he’d been crouched beside.
Weston glanced at Butch as a soft gasp sounded in the family. Those intense blue eyes were pained, filled with sorrow, but he merely swallowed.
Cash whipped his head to his son. “Butch, don’t,” he chastised. The boy stuck his tongue out and walked away from the family. He lifted a sideways brow at me as he passed and disappeared up the stairs.
Nancy’s eyes tracked her grandson up the stairs before turning this fiery shade of anger and whipped her head back to her own son. “I would have an easier time taking your criticism if you cared just as much about your own self as you do about everyone else,” she suddenly hissed, stalking forward. I felt very uncomfortable being here, like an unwelcome visitor.
Weston’s brows twitched. “I do care about myself?”
“Then why in the world would you go and get in a fight the first time you attend any event in town?” she shouted, throwing her hands in the air.
My entire being froze, confused and shocked.
“Fight?” Cassidy interjected, his bewildered gaze swinging from the ensuing argument toward me. So much context was missing. Stepping forward, I opened my mouth to speak, but didn’t have a chance as Nancy continued.
“Yes, fight. Your older brother here decided to make a fool of his family by getting in a fight with Danny Baker! You’re an adult!” She got right in Weston’s face. “You’ve been an adult for far longer than you were a dumb teenager, yet I have to scold you like one because you’re acting like an impulsive, immature boy! Who also ran away when his parents showed up after hearing about it!”
“Mom, I didn’t—” Weston calmly began, but she waved at him, closing her eyes to cut him off.
“And you started this fight in front of Tenley no less!” Her voice raised even louder, her face twisting in frustration. “I know you two have this friendship or whatever going on, but how do you expect her to maintain a good reputation with everyone if you act like that? Especially since I’m hoping she finally agrees to go out with at least one of my idiot sons at some point! But that won’t happen if you confirm the rumors that go around about you! I mean everyone knows who you are, who your family is, and you had to go and act like somesavage your very first time at a public event,” she snapped and my heart dropped.
The silence was tangible as everyone stopped breathing. She crossed a line, and even she immediately knew it the moment the words left her mouth.
Tears brimmed at my eyes as I glanced at Weston. He stared at his mom, blank. But his eyes, I’d never seen someone look so utterly broken and hollow. Of all the people to care about those rumors, I’d been in the understanding that his family wasn’t a part of that group. But apparently that was false.
Nancy’s hand began to tremble as she slowly brought it up to her mouth. “Weston, I…,” she whispered.
