Page 95 of Branded Betrayal

I shake my head. “I need time to think. By myself. I can’t do that with you anywhere near me.”

His head drops. “Can I come back to check on you?”

“Don’t. I said I need time.” I fold my arms over my chest, my jaw tight.

Blaze walks past me, and I immediately feel the loss when he walks down the stairs and heads toward his truck. Each step he takes is like a knife to my gut. I watch his taillights disappear down the drive, and only then do I lower myself onto the porch and let the tears fall.

I feel so empty, like I already know how this all ends. But I just haven’t lived through it yet.

Nash was right. I should have stayed away from him all those years ago.

He’s a liar and a criminal, but dammit, my body still hums from his touch. And my heart aches, thinking about the dejected look on his face when I sent him away. Because despite everything, he was betrayed by his own father, someone who should have done everything in his power to protect Blaze.

Of course, he’s not the only one with secrets. And with all he’s held back from me . . . all he’s still holding back . . . he still doesn’t know my biggest secret, one I’ve carried with me for six years.

The baby we lost.

The truth is supposed to set you free. But partial truths?

They’re just another kind of cage.

And I’m still locked up tight.

Chapter Thirty

Blaze

Three days have passed since I left Red Rock . . . and Savannah. Three days of silence that is more deafening than the gunfire and explosions that haunt my nightmares.

Turning my phone over, I glare at the blank screen. No missed calls. No missed texts.

I promised her space, so I’ve stayed away. Working on our ranch from dawn to dusk, keeping myself busy with land and equipment maintenance, feeding and watering livestock, fence and barn repairs . . . all jobs meant to keep my mind off the stricken look on Savannah’s face when I told her almost everything.

She looked at me like I was some thug gangster with a black heart and no soul. And it stung worse than any angry words that spewed from her lips.

Because she finally realized I am the villain in this story.

Not the hero. Never the hero.

Everything I touch turns to ash. It’s better this way. She should stay far away from me. I’ve already put her in enough danger. Maybe enough that she’ll leave Whiskey Creek and get away from Wilkerson’s threats.

I slam my fist on the kitchen counter. The coffee in my mug swishes over the side, drizzling down the side of the ceramic. It seeps into the wood grain beneath it.

Running my finger over the tiny chip on the handle, I go through all the reasons why I can’t violate her wishes, why I need to wait for her to reach out. But panic burns hot in my chest.

“I need to get out of here,” I mutter, grabbing my hat and keys. I stalk out the front door and jump into my truck. I grit my teeth and stare at the road, squinting at the sunlight streaming through my windshield.

Fuck the sun. I’ve been living in pitch blackness for so long, I feel like a damn vampire.

Twenty minutes later, I pull into the hospital parking lot. A deep sigh expels from my lips as I stare up at the redbrick building, guilt roiling my gut.

My youngest brother, who I deserted, was an innocent victim in this whole shit show. I don’t care what Wilkerson said, how he deflected blame. He did this. I’d bet my life on it.

Who will be next?

And how the fuck can I stop it? How can I beat Wilkerson at his sick game without anyone else suffering the consequences?

That question has looped through my mind for weeks, and I still have no answer.