“They’re not what? The screw up? Is that what you were going to say?” My voice raises a fraction, and I ball my hands into fists to get myself under control. “When have I ever done anything irreparable to our family, Preston? When have the gossip columns ever gotten it right? When did I become the punching bag for everyone else’s insecurities?”
“Colton. We’re in the shit here with this lawsuit. Halton and East’s futures with The WB depend on this merger.”
“And I’ve done my part to make this company a success. This clusterfuck is not my doing, Preston, and you know it. Macomb is waging a war against me, and Ashton isn’t doing a damn thing about it. What happened to the Westbrook way? Taking care of our own? Why am I the only one who doesn’t get the support I need when someone is taking shot after shot at me?”
“The Westbrook Group needs—”
“The Westbrook Group. The Westbrook Group … what about me, Preston? Your brother. What about—”
I’m cut off by a high-pitched scream I know in my bones is Weston. I take off at a dead run toward his room. Sounds of shouting have me barreling in the other direction to the front door.
Yanking it open so hard I’d be surprised if it’s still on its hinges, I find my worst nightmare. Winnie stands at the bottom of the stairs, clutching Weston to her chest as paparazzi surround her.
The world blurs around me as I barrel down the stairs, pushing and shoving reporters until I reach her. Panic clutches my chest when I see her face. The photographers close in, shoving cameras in every angle. Weston is crying and scratching at Winnie like he’s trying to climb inside of her to hide. A protective rage overtakes my body as I take him from her arms. Blood trickles down her collarbone from his tiny fingers.
I’m going to kill these fuckers.
“Is this your son, Colton?” one of them yells.
“Are you hiding the mother away for a reason?” another asks, pressing a microphone into Winnie’s face.
“What’s your name?”
“How long have you been together?”
“Are you claiming the child?”
“Did you plan the pregnancy?”
“Did she trap you?”
Holding Weston to my chest with one arm, and Winnie in the other, I use my foot to shove the man in front of me out of the way. The action has more bulbs flashing, and people yelling, then Preston is at my side. He leans down and picks up Winnie just as Ashton comes flying around the corner on a four-wheeler.
Preston forces his way through the crowd with Winnie, and I follow in his wake, cradling Weston. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Ash face the crowd with a gun in his hand. Since the attack that scarred his face, paparazzi have become his worst nightmare, but he willingly puts himself in front of them so we can escape to the safety of our home.
“Put the cameras down and your hands up. You’re trespassing, and we’re pressing charges,” Ashton grunts.
I slam the front door closed and pick up my speed to follow Preston. The little body in my arms is trembling so hard his chin bobs against my chest. My little guy is frozen in fear and his body shuts down. I know he peed all down the front of me, and it makes me hate myself even more for not protecting him.
Preston places Winnie on the sofa. “Are you okay here?” he asks. “I’m going to help Ashton before this sets off another PR nightmare we can’t get out of.”
“Because you’re protecting The WB?” I spit.
“I’m protecting our family, Colton. And yes, a big part of that is The WB.”
“Get out,” I bark.
Weston curls his little face into the crook of my neck.
“I’ll make this really easy for you, Preston. I quit. You’ll have my resignation by morning.”
“You can’t quit your family, Colton,” Preston exclaims as he stalks to the front door.
“You can when your family gave up on you a long time ago. I quit, Preston. This is my family, right here. Until you can support me and my family like you do everyone else, you’re not welcome here. None of you are.”
My brother’s shoulders slump. “I’m doing the best I can, Colt. I’m doing what I think is right.”
Shouting erupts outside, and Preston actually looks torn, but eventually, he heads outside to help Ash.