Page 82 of Midnight Salvation

But it feels too easy to just accept his apology and move on like it didn’t happen.

I take a deep breath, trying to gather my thoughts and identify those pesky little emotions slithering around inside of me. “Well, I didn’t expect you to have such a compelling reason. Asshole,” I mutter, side-eying Silas.

The corner of his mouth ticks up, and he might as well have shouted hooray.

“Well, I’m fucking pissed at you for the way you handled this, you know.” Bane looks at me, gaze narrow and lips pursed. “There are about a hundred different ways you could’ve gone about this, starting with, oh, I don’t know, fucking talking to us like adults.”

“Instead of stomping around the house for the last month, throwing out tiny barbs because you’re lashing out like a child,” Silas drawls. He has the audacity to look at me with wide eyes, like he’s fucking innocent in all this.

I shrug, uncomfortable with the weight of the accusation because it has fucking merit. “Yeah, well, I guess I’m not all that mature sometimes. But I didn’t really know how to process this shit, and it felt like my family wasn’t my fucking family anymore.”

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Bane mutters.

“Fuck, man, don’t hold back now.” I roll my eyes and crane my neck from one side to the other. But I can’t shake the feeling of relief that gnaws at my gut. There is something liberating about finally having it all out there.

Bane shrugs. “I’m not. Look, I get why you’re angry, and I’m not getting in the middle of that shit between you two. But me? I’m gonna take this as a boon.”

“Your ma steps out on your dad, and you’re going to just smile and nod?” I ask, incredulous.

“First of all, fuck you. She’s our mother, and she’s not even qualified to have that title. And secondly, I meant because I’ve always wanted siblings, asshole. And the three of us, we’ve been tight our whole lives, but it pales in comparison to the two of you,” Bane says, jerking his chin toward me and Silas.

My cheeks grow warm under his reprimand.

“Fuck you too, man. You’ve always been our brother, and you know that,” Silas chides with a slow grin.

“I came to pee, but I’d really like to know why you three are having midnight meetings in the bathroom,” Evangeline mumbles, shuffling between the three of us. “And phew, do you guys smell that? It reeks of feelings in here.” She waves her hand in front of her face, like she’s wafting away a bad smell. But I don’t miss the broad grin curving across her face. “Now, I love you all, but get out. Some boundaries shouldn’t be crossed, yeah?”

42

SILAS

There’s a knock on the doorframe into the small office inside RGRC, Rosewood Garage and Repair Company. I glance over my shoulder, dragging a wet paper towel across my face and the back of my neck. It’s hot as fuck today, and that fucking air conditioner still doesn’t work.

Sheriff Redford stands in my doorway, looking ten different shades of awkward, and I have to resist the urge to grin at his discomfort. I haven’t seen or heard from him in a couple weeks, not since he came to my house and tried to throw around his weight.

“Something you need, Sheriff?”

“Yeah, uh, Silas. I was wondering if I could have a word?’

I grin at him, but it’s nothing like the charming smiles Nova tosses to everyone. Nah this one is too rough around the edges to ever be considered friendly. But I don’t have the patience in me to put on pleasantries. Not when my boy has to be separated from me for his safety, the garage is behind and the compound is recovering and there’s a fucking stalker after my girl.

I check the clock on the wall, noting that the demo crew will be at the house in fifteen minutes. I hired a small team of guys to do what they have to in the house to take the ruined shit out and save as much as they can. I offered to pay for them to do Bane’s house too, but he’s dead-set on bulldozing it to the ground. If he ever peels himself away from our girl, I mean.

Not that I fucking blame him. Being with her will always outweigh most things. And it’s definitely better than slowly cooking to death inside this fucking oven of a garage.

“Sure, I got a couple minutes for my old pal, the sheriff.” I toss the dirty paper towel in the garbage can and lean my ass against the edge of my desk. Arms folded over my chest and one ankle crossed over the other. “Have a seat, Redford.” I jerk my chin to the chair next to me. “You look like you need to sit down.”

Redford smoothes his palm down the front of his shirt, a nervous habit of his. I can’t tell if he has bad new for me or if he’s just fucking squirrely because the last time we saw each other I implied that I was going to kill him.

He drops into the chair with a grunt, straightening his shirt once more, as if he suddenly has misaligned buttons on the front.

“Well? The clock’s ticking. I have somewhere to be.”

Redford clears his throat. “Yeah, see, that's why I’m here.”

My brows fly toward my forehead and I tilt my head to the side. “You got a problem with me renovating my house?”

He shakes his head. “What? No. Of course not. That’s your property, your business.”

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