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“Because I saw her go into your room and sneak out three hours later. Don’t fucking lie to me.”
Dolly gasps. “Oh my gosh, are you and Rosie really hooking up?”
I look up at my sister, swallowing before I answer, “Is that against the rules now or something?”
I should’ve just denied it, told them all it’s not what it looks like.
But then I would have to tell them I can’t sleep without her and that I’m paying her to stay in my room half the week. I’d also have to tell them why.
I’m the strong one, the leader of this family. I can’t come back half broken and unable to function. The ranch needs me. My family needs me. I don’t have the liberty of falling apart, like my father did.
And it’s nobody’s fucking problem, except mine, to battle these demons.
Duke lunges for me, tackling me to the ground, along with the barstool. My head smacks the wood flooring as he sends his fist into my jaw with an uppercut.
I crack a smile despite the wave of dizziness. “You’ve gotten stronger, little brother.”
He gets one more hit in for the assumed betrayal before I start to fight back. I roll him off of me, pinning his shoulders to the floor. He knees me in the gut, drawing a grunt from me as I try to restrain him without hitting him back.
He’s pissed off and not giving up. I use one arm to pin his right wrist down, but he throws an elbow in my face, hitting me in the nose.
All right, fuck this.
I rear back, landing a punch on his jaw before stepping off of him. Blood drips down from my nose, spilling onto my shirt.
“I’m not fucking her,” I tell him, wiping my nose.
He doesn’t stop to listen. He stands up, trying to throw another one in my face. I block it with my forearm. I return his punch with one of my own, sending him flying into the wall of the kitchen, leaving a divot in the Sheetrock. An old family picture crashes to the floor, shattering the glass. He lunges for me again, but I can see the move before he gets to me. I duck out of the way before reaching for his head and locking his neck in the crook of my elbow in a hold he can’t get out of. He claws at my arms.
“That’s enough! I told you I didn’t fuck her.”
“Then, why was she in there with you?” he yells.
Cash has joined us in the kitchen, and he and Sterling are casually eating dinner while observing the fight. Dolly is pacing with crossed arms. She’s used to brawls breaking out between us, but she’s never liked it.
“Okay, Holden, he heard you. Let him go,” she pleads.
I’m squeezing his neck just enough to limit his airway but not cut it off. I’m bigger and stronger than Duke, but he’s always been a damn good fighter. If I hadn’t been forced to work out for my sanity and fight for my own safety in prison, this would’ve gone on a lot longer, and he could have won.
I let him go, and he gasps for air.
“When did you get so fucking strong?” He stands up straight, red-faced and still angry.
My barstool is in a splintered heap on the floor, so I pull his over to where my plate is and sit down. I grab the napkin next to my plate and hold it up to my bloody nose.
“You think I sat around and sang ‘Kumbaya’ in prison after writing your pretty redhead a love letter?”
He lunges for me again. The urge to pull the knife from my pocket and slice his belly open, like I would if he were another inmate attacking me, rises. Shanks in prison aren’t a myth. My barstool topples to the floor again, the crack of wood splitting the air.
“Okay! That’s enough!” Dolly screams.
When I dodge his next blow, he catches me in the shoulder, jerking me sideways. I send my fist into Duke’s face again, letting this one go with more force. His body jolts back. I stand up again, panting and waiting for him to get up. He jumps to his feet, eyes clearly calculating his best shot.
Sterling steps between us, pressing a hand to both our chests. “All right. Can we just agree that no one is fucking anyone’s ex? Shit, the nurse isn’t even here right now to stitch you up. You’re getting blood on the damn floor.”
We’re both panting. Duke is glaring at me with a swollen eye and busted lip, and my nose is smarting while blood drips on my boots.
“Are you going to?” He spits out a bright red stream.
