Page 49 of Caught in the Axe
Cole rolled over and pushed his hair out of his face. It was long and shaggy and dirty, and his newly grown beard was bushy and unkempt. He really did look like shit.
A twinge of pity hit me again, but I forced it aside.
“I don’t know.” He shrugged his massive shoulders. “I was drunk and high, and it seemed like a great idea. A fuck-you to Dad. A way to blow off steam. Who cares?”
And just like that, all my sympathy turned to rage.
“Who cares?” I scoffed, shaking my head. “You don’t have the IQ points to understand how your actions affect the rest of us.”
I was getting a full head of steam now. One wrong move, and I’d veer right into full-on shouting territory.
“I’m working my ass off, neglecting my actual paying job, to help save your asses. I abandoned my own life to help get this shit fixed so that we can all move forward with our lives.
“And you’re up here, fucking things up left and right for the rest of us, sabotaging our chances of moving on without losing everything because you have hurt feelings? Liabilities impact our ability to sell, dumbass.”
I was standing now, my fists clenched. “Get your shit together.” I hissed, turning to leave. If I stayed, I couldn’t be certain I wouldn’t clock the asshole, and if I did that, I’d hurt my mom.
He hauled himself off the couch faster than seemed possible and shoved me hard. “Fuck you, Owen. You are the last person to throw stones. You haven’t come home in years.”
I whipped around and shoved him back, satisfied when he stumbled. “Staying away is not the same thing as petty crime and sabotage, you dumb fuck.”
He lunged at me, practically growling, and I pushed him down onto the couch.
“You’ve had every opportunity laid out for you on a silver platter. The rest of us had to scrape by. We made do without state-of-the-art sports equipment, SAT tutors, or luxury vacations.”
My heart was racing now. What I wouldn’t give to beback in Boston. I’d always enjoyed my simple life, and the minute I’d set foot in the state of Maine, everything had gone to shit. And they wondered why I never visited.
“Finn joined the Navy. I bartended to put myself through college,” I gritted out, looming over where he was sprawled out. “Every single one of us had hardship, but you don’t see any of us throwing tantrums and causing thousands of dollars in damages because our feelings are hurt.”
Gus appeared beside me and put a hand on my shoulder, pulling me out of my rampage.
I took a step back and rolled my shoulders. This had already gone too far.
Mom jumped in then. “Boys. What’s done is done. I asked you all here so we could figure out what we’re going to do about it. Not to make things worse by dissolving into fights.”
Chest heaving and blood still boiling, I stomped away from my idiot brother. On the other side of the room, I settled beside the bookshelf where Mom displayed all our high school graduation photos, including Cole’s. It took effort not to pick it up and smash it. He didn’t deserve my mom.
“We’re all hurting. The last few years have not been kind to any of us.” She pinned Cole with a glare. “You will make amends, both with the law and with our family.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he grumbled, hanging his head.
She turned toward me, shaking a finger. “I raised you better than this. We forgive in this family. I’ll drag all your lazy asses to church on Sunday if I have to so you can remember your values.”
She walked toward me, her expression softening a bit.
I forced my shoulders to lower and blew out a long breath as she stopped beside me.
“Now, how can we repair the damage and work together? Owen has taken on a lot.” She shifted and focused on me, even managing to give me a small smile. “How can we help you?”
I shrug. “There really isn’t much you can do.”
“No.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t believe that. This room is full of smart, capable people. If we work toward a common goal, we can do it.”
“I have a buyer—they’ve made one shitty offer. They’ll make another, but I don’t think it’ll be much better. Every decent buyer I’ve found has been scared off by the incomplete financials and outstanding orders.”
Deimos Industries and the mystery invoices were a problem, not to mention the consulting business and the conflicting environmental reports. We’d pull on one thread and find several others all tangled up.
“I’ve already been here for two weeks,” I said. “I need to get back to Boston, but there’s still so much to get done.”
