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“He’s a fucking menace, Xan. I’m done with him.”
“You can’t be done with him,” I pointed out, watching the passenger side door as Kingston pushed it open. “He’s your brother.”
“He was your brother first.” Dylan shot a parting glare at the truck, then deflated as he turned away. “I’m trying. Honest. I’ve been with him all day, haven’t I? I got him here. Even that was a big ask.” He shook his head. “I wanna help him. I do. Problem is, he’s a jackass, and a fucker, and he doesn’t want help.”
I clapped my hand on his shoulder in understanding. “Go on in. I’ll handle it.”
Dylan patted my chest in return and shook his head. “Good luck. I mean that.”
He headed up the steps as I braced myself to hear Kingston’s side of things.
“Need a hand?” I offered.
“No, I need a fucking leg. You’ve still got both of yours, cupcake, so try and keep up.” Kingston stared down at the truck’s running board. He looked like he was doing advanced calculus in his head. “Just leave me be. It’s like I told Dylan… I can do this myself.”
“King—” I shook my head, reaching for him. Dylan’s truck was huge. There was no way Kingston was getting out of it without help.
“Fuck off,” he snapped, shoving my hands away. He shifted in his seat and let out a breath. “Just need to… Sonofabitch… Fucking…”
In an act of great bravery—or great idiocy—he launched himself out of the truck. His foot hit the running board okay, but as he tried to hop down, he lost his balance.
“Fuck!”
I barely caught him in time before he hit the ground.
“Jesus, man,” I swore. “You keep this shit up, you’re gonna kill yourself.”
“I’m fine!” He wrestled against my hold on him, trying to shove me away. He almost succeeded, too, until he almost toppled over the second he was free. “Let go of me, asshole! I’m fucking fine.”
“You’re not fine,” I growled as he went right back to struggling all over again. “Go on. Swear at me all you like. Take it out on me. You go right ahead. But this is a family. You’re part of it. That means you get help when you need it whether you like or not.”
Kingston drew back. For a second, I thought he was going to head butt me. I was relieved when he didn’t.
“I’m not gonna thank you,” he grumbled, looking away.
“Didn’t ask you to.” I helped him prop himself up on the door while I reached into the truck’s bed to grab his wheelchair. I unfolded it for him and helped him into it. It earned me more swearing, but Kingston’s words hurt me a lot less than face-planting on the driveway would have hurt him.
* * *
“You’re fucking kidding me,” Dylan breathed.
I’d gathered everyone around the dinner table to hear my new plan. After I laid it out, a stunned silence fell over the room. It would have left me sweating if Felicity hadn’t reached for my hand.
That Dylan was the first to speak—and that his response was so incredulous—wasn’t a good sign.
“I’m not kidding,” I assured him. “The time for jokes is long past.”
“But… There are kids in Carter’s Creek, Xander,” Sylvia pointed out.
“Our sons are kids,” I said. “And they’re in a hell of a lot more danger right now than any children there.”
We had no way of knowing where our sons were, or what plans Melony had for them. If she’d taken them to her father, I knew Quincy would like nothing more than to feel their blood on his hands. If it was Samuel she’d delivered them to, it was harder to say. My sons were his legacy. His kin. That had to count for something. But there were too many variables to count, too much madness in the mix.
Right now, Rylan and Ryder could be alive somewhere, safe and sound. Or…
They might already be dead.
“I know, hon. Believe me, I know.” Sylvia drew her arms around herself as she shivered. “I know we’re desperate, but—”
