Page 12 of Brett and Rowdy
It had made Brett crazy when he’d been a teenager. Now he understood it was jealousy. Envy was a cruel fucking bitch of a mistress.
“Why exactly did the two of you break up?”
“You mean besides the fact that he was cheating on me with our friend?” Hadn’t that been enough?
“Wait, I thought you broke up, and then you found out about the baby. I didn’t know you were still together then.”
He shook his head. “No, we’d been broken up before he got her knocked up.” That was only fair. They’d broken up in May of their junior year, and everyone had known Ashley was pregnant by Halloween, for sure. Now, the baby had come in what? February? So she’d have had to have been sleeping with Rowdy in short order, but—Fuck, it didn’t matter. “The simple fact is, Rowdy wanted to leave. You know he was dead set on going back to New Mexico as soon as he got out of high school. That’s all he ever talked about—going back to the ranch, going back to the ranch, going back to the ranch. And I was like, what about college? What about this? What about that? What about staying here? We could stay here. And there was no—” He shrugged, taking a deep, calming breath. “There was just no compromise with him. He hates it here.”
And that was it, wasn’t it? Rowdy had been unhappy from the second he set foot in South Carolina. There was nothing about any of it that he’d liked. Not a bit.
Not the food, not the people, not the humidity, not anything.
And the simple fact was this was where Brett’s people were from. This was where he was from. This was part of his identity, and he hadn’t had the strength or moral turpitude or hell, he didn’t know what. But he couldn’t fight against it. He couldn’t fight against the waves of anger and unhappiness, and he didn’t want to feel ashamed of where he’d been born.
And so he’d told Rowdy no. He wasn’t leaving. He wasn’t going anywhere. Rowdy could stay, and they could be a thing together after graduation, or they could just break up right there and then.
Rowdy’s response had been, “Get the fuck out of my truck.”
Crystal nodded, adding more sugar to her coffee. “Well, not everybody’s meant to be here, and he was an outsider, you have to admit. I mean, he was definitely Western, stomping into class in Wranglers and boots and a gimme cap in his back pocket with that button-down. He didn’t look a thing like these South Carolina boys, and you know it.”
He barked out a happy laugh. “Of course I know it. God, why do you think I hooked up with that? There’s nothing hotter. He’s like a damn gay archetype.”
“So do you know why he’s got a seeing eye dog?” she whispered like someone was going to overhear them.
“I’m assuming because he’s blind.”
She kicked him hard under the table. Really hard. “Quit being a dick. You know what I mean!”
He shook his head. “God, I have no idea. I’m assuming it was an accident or something, maybe genetic, but I don’t know. I hope it’s not genetic, you know? There are children to worry about.”
“You and I both know that Ashley Norton has one child, and that’s Madison. So there are notchildrento worry about. There ischild.”
“Are you sure? You don’t know how many kids he’s had. He might have fifty. One in every port. I don’t know.”
“No, there’s only one.” That wasn’t Crystal’s voice. That was Rowdy’s, and it was sharp as a scalpel. “I’m a cowboy, not a sailor. And it was an accident. Got kicked in the head by a bronc, riding in Cheyenne, snapped my optic nerves. I went from fully sighted to blind in one hundredth of a second. Any more questions?”
“Yeah. Would you like to have a seat with us? It’s pretty busy in here, and we’ve got a nice table.”
He was going to kill Crystal. Just murder her where she sat.
“Sure. It’s pretty busy with people who are pretending to be at the reunion, huh?” That was fucking Ashley. Because of course it was.
Which he hated himself for being mean about her, because he’d liked her a lot before the whole thing with Rowdy.
“Come on and sit,” Brett said, scooting in farther so Rowdy and the dog could both sit.
“Under, Barney. Lay down.”
The dog slid right under the table and laid down, just as smooth as you please. Brett was impressed. His last dog had been impossible to control, the little terrorist. But then, Trouble had been a dachshund from his childhood, and he’d loved that wee bastard with everything in him.
He jumped when the dog snuffled his leg, then laughed.
“Barney checking you out?” Rowdy asked.
“Yeah. Either that or I got food on my pants when I sat down.”
“Not at the reunion?” Ashley asked.
