Page 19 of Whiskey Chase
I shoved my way between them. But instead of heading over to Devlin’s side, which would turn him into an instant target, I stood in the only unoccupied corner of the deck and plotted the murder of my brothers.
They were overprotective to be sure, but had I been a man, they’d have no issue with me wrestling in the water with someone. But no. Because I had a vagina, they thought they could dictate my sex life. It wasn’t cute anymore. Not like when I went to junior prom and they lined up on the front porch and glared down Freddy Sleeth until he all but ran back to the car. Or when I had my heart broken by Wade Zirkel senior year. Gibson had shoved that boy in the trunk of his car and driven around for an hour before he let Jameson and Bowie take one shot each at him.
I had yet to tell them that I’d accidentally slept with Wade a few times at the tail end of this past winter and it hadn’t ended well. He’d flirted up Zadie Rummerfield at The Lookout while I was playing pool. I’d dumped a pitcher of beer over his head and flattened one of the tires on his pick-up on my way out.
He still had some of my stuff at his apartment, and come hell or high water, I was gonna get it back.
“You all right, babe?” Cassidy asked, handing me a towel.
“Just peachy with three asshole misogynists for brothers.” I made sure the comment was loud enough for everyone to hear.
“They love you,” Cassidy reminded me unnecessarily.
“That doesn’t give them an excuse to shame me,” I said, dropping my voice.
“They’re not trying to shame. They’re trying to protect you.”
“I’m an adult.”
“Does an adult really start wet humping a stranger in a lake in front of her brothers?”
I stuck my jaw out. “Careful, Cass. It’s almost soundin’ like you’re on their side.”
“I’m always on your side, Scarlett. But there comes a time when we all have to grow up.”
Damn the pragmatic deputy in my best friend. Sometimes I had the distinct feeling that Cassidy had gone and grown up without me, leaving me—her best friend in the world—to fumble through life all by my lonesome.
I spotted Devlin on the other side of the deck as Gibson grumpily motored us home. He was watching me with an unreadable expression on his fine face. I’d taken him by surprise in the water. Hell, I’d taken myself by surprise with my reaction. But what surprised us both was Devlin’s reaction.
It was times like these that I wished I still had a mama to talk to.
We reached my dock in subdued spirits. I hopped off and tied the lines, ignoring my brothers and Cassidy, who’d also landed on my shit list. I muscled a cooler off the deck and griped when someone took it from me.
But it was Devlin. And from the sparks that exploded from just a brush of his fingers, I knew the kiss hadn’t been a random fluke. I wasn’t sure if I was eager to explore it or if I should run in the opposite direction like my mama had made me promise.
“Never, ever get married before thirty, Scarlett Rose,” she’d told me time and time again. It was common knowledge that she and daddy had to get married right in the middle of their senior year of high school, pregnant with Gibson. Theirs had been a volatile relationship with more downs than ups. But the ups were still the highlight reel of my childhood.
Jameson took the cooler from Devlin, and Gibson bumped Devlin with his shoulder on purpose.
“There’s no reason for you to be actin’ like an asshole,” I announced to my oldest brother.
Wearily he looked at me. “Can we just not for once, Scar?”
“Whatever.” I shrugged. I was tired, too. I wanted to go home, alone. And sit in the dark. This melancholy was familiar. I’d lived with it daily for a year or so after Mama died. And since Daddy… well, it had found me again. And tonight, I was tired of running from it. I’d soak in it, feel it, suffer through it. And then tomorrow I’d start fresh.
“Who’s that?” Bowie asked, tensing as a stranger walked toward us in the dark.
He stopped at where the dock met the land.
My brothers stood shoulder to shoulder in front of me, and it didn’t escape my notice that Devlin wedged himself in between Gibson and Jameson.
“Is there a Scarlett Bodine here?” the stranger asked.
He didn’t sound like West Virginia, and I couldn’t see his face in the dark. Cassidy turned on the flashlight she went everywhere with, blinding the man.
“Can we help you?” she asked, all no-nonsense deputy now.
“Looking for Scarlett,” he said.
