“I don’t want to hear it!” I roar, ripping my arm out of his grasp. “Don’t pull your president bullshit on me, either. This”—I wag my finger in the space between us and the truck— “isn’t club business. This is family business. My family. You don’t get to order me around. You’ve been lying to my fucking face for months.”
His jaw twitches. Rock’s not used to people raising their voices at him. Maybe later I’ll regret it, but I’m too pissed right now. I jump in the truck but Rock blocks me from shutting the door.
His mouth twists in an anxious frown as he peers at Heidi. “Heidi, please. I’m sorry. Come back to the house and talk to us.”
“Pop-pop!” Alexa wails, reaching her little hands toward us.
Ignoring Rock, Heidi turns in her seat and tries to soothe Alexa.
“Blake,” Rock pleads, still hanging onto my door as if that will stop me from getting the hell out of here. “You can’t drive when you’re this upset. Not with them. Please, stop.”
The rational part of my brain understands—and probably agrees with—him, but the rest of me is so pissed off, his words are a match to dynamite. “You don’t get to tell me what to do, Rock. You’re not my father.”
With those parting word bullets, I yank the door out of his grasp and slam the door shut.
He slaps his hand against the glass.
Ignoring him, I fire up the truck. I tug my seat belt on and turn to Heidi. “Buckled up?”
“Please get us out of here,” she whispers.
“You got it.”
As much as I’d love to stomp on the accelerator and tear out of there in some over-the-top dramatic fashion, I don’t want to scare Alexa or accidentally hit Rock—no matter how pissed I am with him right now.
He steps back and doesn’t pull any emotional grenades out of his back pocket—like flinging himself on the hood.
Both of our phones vibrate to life, buzzing incessantly until Heidi yanks hers out of her purse and shuts it off. She grabs mine from the console, powers it down and tosses it in the glove compartment.
I rocket down the driveway faster than normal, creating a bit of a bouncy ride.
“Wee!” Alexa shouts.
I glance at her in the mirror. Her little red cheeks are still damp, but she thrusts her fists in the air and yells, “Wee!” again as the truck bounces.
I blow out a relieved breath. Thank fuck, she’s not too traumatized by all that bullshit.
I wish I could say the same for Heidi.
And myself.
When we reach the turn for the county road, I stop and check in with my wife. “Which direction?”
Normally, we’d go right and follow the road into Empire. Left takes you deeper into Empire County—cow country. I glance in the rearview, worried Rock or Teller might be following.
“Right,” Heidi whispers.
I turn the wheel.
Heidi raises her middle finger as we pass the big rooster-shaped mailbox at the end of her brother’s driveway, and I let out a bitter laugh. Grassy fields, a house or farm every couple miles, eventually lead to a village where many of the houses have stood for over a century. I have to slow the truck to navigate the tighter roads.
The sign for Ward’s Market comes into view. I pull into their small lot and park the truck on the side of the small brick building out of view from the main road. I leave the truck running and turn to Heidi. “Where do you want to go?”
“I need to…think. I need to be away from them for a while.” She lifts her gaze, her watery brown eyes pleading with me. “Please.”
“Anywhere you want, beautiful.”
She bites her lip and stares out the windshield. “The Adirondacks?” She blushes and drops her gaze. “Maybe that place we went to our first…time together?”