Page 46 of Avery's Hero

She stares at me, her eyes full of fight. “Talk to him. Talk to him, Brock. Don’t just?—”

Her words end so abruptly that I know something’s hanging between us. Finally, I prompt her, “What? Don’t just what?”

“Throw him away.”

That fucking stings. Fully irritated, I say, “I’m not throwing him away. And I’ve tried talking to him, it’s like yelling into a hurricane. I’ve tried and I’m not getting through. It’s one issue after another. The last three months have been hell. I'm out of patience. I can’t follow him around all the time to keep him safe from his stupid fucking decisions.”

I feel like I age a hundred years in ten seconds.

Growling, I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I’ve tried. I’m done. I need to go.”

She grabs my hand when I walk by her, “Don’t do anything you’ll regret.”

For a loaded minute, we stare at each other.

I’m kicking myself hard. As amazing as last night was, I should have been looking out for Lincoln. I thought he wasin a safe place at his friend Matthew’s house. Under the watchful eye of his parents.

Wrong again. Fucking wrong.

He’s got to be my focus until we make it through this rough patch.

Ifwe make it through this rough patch.

Ice settles in my chest, extinguishing the banked coals that have been glowing there since last night.

“I’ll be gone for a few hours. Find Frank if you need anything. Anddo notgo on any fire calls. I mean that. Don’t fucking press this, Avery.” I drop my voice so only she can hear, “Just because we fucked doesn’t mean I’m backing down from this.”

She drops my hand like it’s a white hot coal. The color that had been so warm on her cheeks leaks completely from her skin.

Way to go, Brock.I feel like a giant ass. But I’m dead serious. She’s not going to get hurt because of me. I might not be able to keep Linc out of trouble, but I sure as hell will do my best to keep her safe. “I won’t back down, Avery. I’m the boss.”

Narrowing her eyes, voice full of venom, she says, “Understood.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The silence in my truck is deadly. Linc won’t meet my eyes. He stares out the window as I navigate the midday traffic on the highway leading out of downtown San Diego.

His favorite T-shirt is torn. His hair’s a mess like he’s been pulling it out. And, dammit to hell, he looks far too much like an adult.

I haven’t yelled. But I’m close.

Throttling my voice, I say, “You owe it to me to tell me what the hell you were thinking.”

He sighs, but holds his silence.

“Linc. This conversation is not an option. You’renot getting out of this truck until you tell me what the hell is going on.”

He sounds like a teenager when he draws out the word, “Dad.” Every parent has heard that sound. The ‘I’m so over it' voice. Well, I’m fucking over it too.

Smoke is about to start rolling out of my ears. I bark at him, “Start talking.”

He has the nerve to reach up and flick on the radio. As he leans back, he says, “I fucked up.”

“Linc,” I glare at him. “Language.”

“You say it all the time,Brock.”

The hair on my neck stands up. It might be because I’m about to self-combust from the anger I’m holding inside.

---