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“What about it?” I took the last bag from Tim and heaved it into the bed, then jumped off the platform, landing a few feet from Chuck. “Is a guy not allowed to come home when his sister gets married?” I shut the tailgate.
He scoffed. “You’re telling me that you’re still here because of London? I call bullshit.”
“Fine. I’m here because of Ryleigh.” I shrugged, playing off the hot, acidic rage burning through my veins that he thought he had a say in anything I did. “Is that better?”
“Do that girl a favor and leave.” He pushed off his truck and handed his receipt to Tim. “Four bags.”
Tim glanced between us, then disappeared into the storeroom as other trucks pulled in. The supply store usually got busy at this time.
“What happens between Ryleigh and me is none of your business,” I said low and slow.
“Really?” He turned back on me with a sneer. “I was with that woman for years. I’m building a damned house with her, and you think I’m what? Out of her life? Who the fuck do you think is going to get blamed when you leave her heartbroken to go back to your superstar life?”
Building? As in…present tense. They hadn’t settled the house stuff yet.
“You are the one that fucking broke her.” I stalked forward and he retreated, his back hitting the driver’s door of his truck. “You let her make plans. You let her dream. You built up a life that you never had any intentions of following through. You don’t get a fucking say in how I put her back together.”
“Put her…” He laughed. “Just because I was the one to recognize that the girl has some serious issues doesn’t mean I broke her. I dodged a fucking bullet.”
My hands clenched into fists. “Her father died!”
“So my life has to get fucked up?” he fired back, pushing off the truck and getting up in my face. “She goes into a freefall, and I’m supposed to sign on for more? Do you have any idea of the shit that got thrown my way because of her? Everyone looks at me like I’m some kind of leper for breaking little Ryleigh Dunham’s heart. They never ask why. They never see that she’s a control freak who had our next decade planned out. She ordered monogrammed fucking towels! Perfect little white ones with C and R embroidered like we were already married!” He took another step.
“You’re going to want to back the fuck up,” I warned him.
The sound of doors shutting registered in the back of my brain.
“Before what? You going to hit me, Caspian?” He laughed. “Like you’d ever risk your million-dollar hands over a girl.”
“I wouldn’t be so fast to test that theory.”
“I can’t wait until the entire town hates you for breaking her, and you know you will. Sure, the pussy is sweet, but we both know you’re going to dump that needy little bitch just like I di—"
I swung, my fist connecting with his jaw in a sickening crack. His head snapped sideways and his body followed as he crumpled to the ground.
“Caspian!”
Fuck. I didn’t need to look up to see that outrage came from Mom, but I did anyway. She stood at the edge of the building, like she’d just come around the corner, her mouth slack. Kate Browning stared at me the same way. Like I was the monster, here.
“That’s assault!” Chuck shrieked, holding his busted lip as he stumbled to his feet.
Awesome. Looked like I needed to call Langley—the head of Reaper PR and Axel’s wife, which meant my captain would know I’d just lost my shit.
Mom raced down the set of concrete steps, a plastic bag swinging in her grip. “Caspian Foster! Apologize!”
“No.” I gave her the only look of apology that I could muster, and it was only for defying her.
“He assaulted me!” Chuck screamed.
A burly body pushed its way between us. Tyler Fredericks—Tim and Todd’s dad—was also a cop. “Let me see that.” He peered at Chuck’s jaw. “Shit, son. You clocked him good.”
A smirk lifted the corner of my lips. Had it been wrong? Yes. Had it felt fucking great? Also, yes.
“I’m pressing charges!” Chuck yelled.
Tyler laughed, the booming sound filling the covered dock. “Over a punch? Or because he kicked your ass with one throw?” He glanced around the loading area. “Anyone see justification for assault?” He looked pointedly at Tim.
“Don’t lie for me,” I told the kid as Mom stood at my side. She might be pissed as hell at me, but she’d never let me stand alone, even if I had a good foot and a hundred pounds on her now.
“Chuck was talking trash about Ryleigh,” Tim announced.
Mom gasped, and every head—there were now a dozen of us back there—turned toward Chuck.
“I hit him,” I admitted, my hand throbbing with the evidence.
