I spin around and look at him standing there. He looks to my bed, his eyes suddenly hard, and jerks his chin, ordering me.
What?
It takes a minute to figure out what he wants.
“Sleep?” I ask.
He wants me to go to bed?
“It’s barely nine o’clock,” I argue.
He points his finger at me and then the bed, ordering me again, this time with a scowl on his face.
Then he twists around and leaves the room, slamming the door shut behind him. What the fuck?
And then I hear it. Metal against metal. A bolt sliding. My eyes widen.
I run to the door, twisting the handle. “Kaleb?”
The door won’t open, and I pound with one palm and jiggle the handle with another hand. “What is this?” I shout. “Are you serious?”
I knew that was too good to be true. His calm downstairs was bullshit. He was pissed.
I yank and pull on the door, beating it with the hand of my healthy arm. “This isn’t funny!”
He bolted my door? There wasn’t a bolt on it this morning. When did he put it on? Is he kidding? Oh, my God.
“Jake!” I shout. “Noah!”
But they can’t hear me, because they’re in the s
hop.
I hear his footfalls down the stairs, but instead of tears, anger boils my blood. I’m going to fucking kill him. Jealous, immature, batshit son of a bitch. I’m going to kill him!
I kick and pound the door. “What if I have to go to the bathroom?” I bellow.
Ugh!
He circles the bed, not taking his eyes off her dark form under the covers. She exhausted herself. She bellowed for a fucking hour in here when he locked her door, and now she’s passed out.
Streams of moonlight glow across her floor, the silence in the house making the snowfall against the glass doors almost like a metronome. Tap, tap…tap. Tap, tap…tap.
He climbs on the bed, hovering over her on his hands and knees as she sleeps.
Thankfully, his father and brother never knew what happened. They were in the shop, far away from her little tantrum, but even if they weren’t, he was ready if they decided to come to her rescue.
He’s sick of her slutting around. Fucking him today in the barn, letting his father touch her and kiss her tonight, and then about to give it up for his brother when his back is turned.
He’s sick of seeing her smile when she works on her dumb shit in the shop.
Sick of her excited by the snow or happy when she feeds the horses.
Sick of seeing her hair fall across her cheek as she reads at the dinner table or how she twists her lips to the side when she’s concentrating on an assignment.
Sick of her cries at night and how pathetic she sounds during her nightmares.
He stares down at her, cocking his head as her breathing turns shallow and she fists her shirt up at her collar. Her face tenses, and she jerks. The nightmare is starting.