Page 14 of The Bad Brother

“Bullshit.” He says it loud enough to earn a few hushed laughs from the boy scouts watching the show.

When all I give him is a bland smile in return, Cade’s brows slam down over his eyes. “Seriously? So, those fuckers put your truck in the Barrett and they just get away with it?”

Morelaughing from the boy scouts that’s quickly shushed by the church ladies who are more worried about eavesdropping on our heated conversation than they are about shielding virgin ears.

I’m about ready to tell him that I don’t know whotheyare, but before I can—and probably get punched in the mouth for my trouble—I catch movement in the corner of my eye. “Hold that thought,” I tell him before I turn toward the man who’s making his way toward us.

“Hey, Jensen.” When he catches more than one of the church ladies disapproving looks, Billy drags his hat off his head with a mumbledsorrybefore he looks at me and tries again. “I just wanted to make sure you knew that I ain’t the one who did this.” Looking at me like just saying the words scares the shit out of him. “Once I got home last night, and sobered up, I?—”

“No one did it, Billy,” Cade pipes up beside me, arms crossed over his chest like he’s working real hard at keeping his hands to himself. “It was anaccident.”

Looking puzzled for a few seconds, Billy shakes his head. “No—it wasn’t no accident.” Dividing a look between us, he finally settles on me. “Someone smashed the driver side window in with a rock. It’s still sitting in the front seat.”

“Maybe it was a raccoon,” Cade says, still not over being shitty. “Areallymad raccoon.”

Shaking his head, Billy throws a quick look at my waterlogged truck over his shoulder. “How would a raccoon, even a really mad one, reach the window?”

“Maybe it was on stilts.”

For fuck’s sake.

“Go inside and check on River before you give poor Billy here an aneurism,” I say, turning to give Cade aget the fuck out of herelook.

“Whatever you say, boss.” Managing to make the word boss sound likeasshole, Cade gives me a snappy salute before heading back inside.

“He was kidding, right?” Billy asks, looking downright confused.

I start walking, snagging his arm to pull him along with me as I move toward my truck and away from the eavesdropping church ladies and gawking boy scouts. As soon as we’re out of earshot, I let go of his arm and stop walking.

Thinking he’s about to get his ass kicked, Billy starts to stammer and stumble his way through an alibi that paints himself innocent of destroying my truck. “I went home last night, just like you told me to,” he tells me, a slight quaver to his voice because the last thing he needs is a repeat of last night. “My dad was still up, watching the Rangers game—it went into extra innings and?—”

“I know it wasn’t you, Billy,” I tell him, cutting through his panic before he really does give himself an aneurism. “And it wasn’t a raccoon, either. Cade’s just being a dick, as usual.”

“Oh…” Relieved, Billy bobs his head before pulling his ball cap back on. “Alright then.” Still looking at me, he grimaces for a moment before he adds. “You know this wasn’t an accident though, right?”

“Yes, Billy—” giving him a weary sigh, I nod. “I know.”

Giving me a commiserating smile, he cocks his head at my truck. “I can take it to the garage and have my dad takea look at it, or I can take it to that junkyard in Jessup,” he tells me, his tone making it obvious which would be the smarter option.

I give him a firm head shake. “I’m not junkin’ it.”

“Okaaay.” He draws the word out like he thinks I’m crazy. “Want to call Sheriff Montgomery?” Billy says, trying to be helpful. “He can meet me at the shop and take a report for your?—”

“No,” I say, my tone harder than intended. “No cops.”

“Insurance won’t pay for repairs without a police report,” he tells me like I might not understand how it works.

“It’s fine. Just have your dad look at it and tell him I’ll be over later this week to talk logistics.” Shifting my gaze past him, I look at the truck Tank drove me home in from the detention center, the day I turned eighteen.

You get in this truck, you get in alone because you can’t start over with a heart full of hate and you can’t be better with their bullshit dragging you down. Whatever happened to get you here, stayshere.You gotta let it go, kid.

Like he knows better than to ask if I’m sure, Billy adjusts the bill of his ball cap before jamming his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “Might take a few days, he’s backed up on repairs—want me to see if we’ve got a loaner, laying around?”

“No.” I shake my head while taking a step back. “I appreciate the offer, but I’ve got it covered.” The last thing I need is my brother or his minions torching someone else’s ride because they’re looking to make my life miserable. “Just get it to the shop and tell your dad I’ll be by later on this week.”

“Will do.” Billy gives me a final nod before he turns and hustles it to his truck. Door slammed and engine rumbling, he takes off, pulling Tank’s truck behind him.

You gotta let it go, kid.

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