“Joe? What happened to you?”

He touched his lip, bringing a bloodstained finger into his line of sight, and smiled. Staggering farther into the living room, he stopped and stood in front of the framed wooden mirror hung above the couch.

“Damn, he got me good,” he said, turning his head side to side. Joe pressed his fingers against his cheekbone and winced.

“Who did that to you?”

He didn’t answer. He just started laughing like a madman. I hurried into the kitchen, grabbing a rag and running it under cold water. I took a cold beer from the fridge and popped the top off. Back in the living room, I found Joe collapsed on the couch. He took the rag and beer from me and delivered a grateful nod. He swigged from the bottle and then wiped the blood from his face with the back of his hand.

Charlotte’s words swirled around my brain.I hope Joe keeps you here permanently.

I took two steps back.

“Where’s Calvin?” He clenched his jaw while he spoke.

“He just ran into town. He’ll be back soon.” I took a seat in the chairkitty-cornerto the couch—farthest from Joe.

His bloodshot eyes scanned the living room and landed on me. “Calvin did this.”

“What? When?”

When could he have done that to him? He was with Albert and hadn’t been gone more than twelve or fourteen minutes now.

“When he told Wyatt that I slept with Charlotte.” Joe let out a laugh and took another swig of his beer.

I swallowed hard. I was the one that told Wyatt, not Calvin. I tapped my fingers on my knee and then brought them to my lips, biting on my chipped nails.

Joe shook his head. “I don’t even remember it, really. She came down to the tavern, telling me she wanted to talk, and then she came onto me. I don’t really recall the rest.”

I brought my arms in front of my body, folding them over my stomach. I hoped Calvin would walk through that door because he would do anything for me as long as he thought there was hope for us. Why was he never here when shit was hitting the fan?

“So, anyway. Wyatt came and confronted me earlier today. Told me he knew about Char and me.” Joe laughed. “My brother, the golden boy, turning on me again.”

He lifted his foot and slammed it against the coffee table. I jumped back in my seat ever so slightly. Predators thrived on fear.

“Did he tell you about our parents?”

I nodded. “I heard about the fire.”

Joe laughed again, a forced and terrifying laugh. “There was a fire in this family long before there was one in this house.”

I leaned forward in my chair. “What... what do you mean?”

“Our father wasn’t a good man. He was abusive, a drunk. Calvin got away for a few years. I was happy someone finally got out of this town. I stayed and worked this ranch every day. But I kept my distance from him. That left only one person in this house for my dad to abuse: Mom.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. I ran my finger over a thick scar on my knee, busying my fingers. I wasn’t sure when or where I got it. Sometimes we don’t even know where our scars come from.

Joe took his foot off the coffee table and chugged the rest of his beer.

I blinked several times, unsure of what to say. “Why are you telling me all this?”

“Just welcoming you to the family. I want you to know what you’re getting into. We may have escaped our father’s abuse, but we didn’t escape his genetics.” Joe smiled.

I stood from my chair and carefully backed toward the kitchen. I needed more distance between us.

“You’re scaring me, Joe.”

He jumped up from the couch, holding the beer by his side, his fingers gripping the neck of the bottle.