Page 81 of Where I Should’ve Been

Logan is sitting down in one of the Adirondack chairs that look out toward the rolling hills, and Bennett is pacing behind him.

But when Logan pulls a cigarette out from the carton in his pocket, before he can light it, Bennett snags it, breaking it in half.

“Hey!” Logan jumps to his feet and drops the bags of peas behind him.

Bennett’s finger is a sword, pointing aggressively in Logan’s face. “Smoke somewhere else if you want, but you’re not doing it here, anywhere near my house or my daughter.”

“Fuck me,” Logan remarks, smacking Ben’s hand away. “It’s not like I planned to blow the smoke in her face. I only smoke when I’m stressed—which I am now because the two of you freak shows felt like making me bleed.”

“Please,” Bennett groans. “Don’t be such a pussy, Logan. Before Hollywood, I could have broken your arm, and you wouldn’t be complaining this much. Fucking actor pricks made you soft.”

“Well, excuse me for not expecting the stupid fucking sheep farmer to have such a strong arm!”

I chuckle, and the two of them turn on me in unison.

“You shut the fuck up.”

“Go home, Ted.”

No way in hell I’m leaving without talking to Breezy, angry brothers or not.

“My name is Tad. Not fucking Ted,” I answer on a sigh, rolling my eyes. “And I’m not leaving.”

“I’m not either,” Logan declares.

“Well, that’s just fucking great. I guess we’re at a stalemate.” Bennett turns angrily and walks toward the backyard, Logan calling after him, when all I have to offer is a shrug.

“Where are you going?”

“To get a burn barrel,” Bennett calls back, annoyed. “It’s cold as fuck, and if we’re gonna stand around with our dicks in our hands, we might as well burn some shit.”

Great. Burning shit. Just the thing I need.

32

Breezy

“All right, what’s going on? Two hours ago, I left a quiet house to get my nails done, and now I come home to some Fyre Festival-level disaster with black eyes, bloody knuckles, a screaming baby, and you throwing up into my trash can.”

Norah’s voice is pitched somewhere between disbelief and mom-level authority. She bounces and rocks Autumn on her hip with my niece’s sweet head tucked under her chin, and tears spring to my eyes against my will.

“I don’t even know where to begin. Logan just showed up here. You know how complicated shit is with Logan and me. And you know how much Bennett hates him…” I pause, not even sure where to start, because honestly, I don’t really know what the hell is happening with me or the Three Violent Stooges out back.

“So, Logan showed up, and Bennett lost his shit,” Norah repeats, trying to understand it all herself. “And where exactly does Tad Hanson throwing punches come into that equation?”

“He busted through the door out of nowhere,” I say, trying to swallow back the onslaught of tears that want to escape. But when my throat clenches with emotion, I hold my breath to calm myself, even swiping at my eyes with my shirt.

It doesn’t help. They spill over before I can catch them, hot and humiliating, and a sob bubbles up from my throat.

“Breezy?” Norah asks, horrified, her eyes wide and confused over my sudden emotional outburst.

“Bee sad!” Autumn says. “Okay, Bee?”

I nod, even though I am sad. But I don’t fucking know why I’m sad. Or this insanely emotional. Or dizzy. Or puking like some woman who…

The wheels of my brain cells start spinning a tune that’s straight-up horrifying in its chorus.

Oh God. I’m not pre—