Broderick (Sabine Valley 2)
Chapter 7
Shiloh
I’m so furious, I can barely see straight. The walk back to the compound takes half the time it should. The entire time, all I can focus on is how unbelievably over-bearing Broderick has become. He’s always been over-protective, but never once in the last seven years has he tried to steamroll me. Not about my ability to do my job. Not about my dating life.
Sure, there hasn’t been much of a dating life to speak of, but ultimately that changes nothing. The man was making decrees about me as if I’m a child to be controlled.
I am not a child.
I’m a fucking adult, and he can choke on his decrees for all I care.
I shove through the front doors of the main house so hard, they bounce off the wall. A small voice inside me warns that I need to give myself time to cool off before doing anything else, but for once in my life I’m too angry to listen. There’s no room for caution here, no space to be rational.
Gabriel Paine, the youngest of the Paine brothers, jumps in surprise at my entrance. “Shiloh?” He narrows his eyes. “Is everything okay?”
“No.” I barely sound like myself. My voice is so cold, I’m half surprised it doesn’t cloud the air in front of me. “Where is Cohen?” I could try approaching Maddox, but he’ll just tell me to deal with it on my own. For all that he’s the more approachable of the two, he’s the least likely to understand how fucked this situation is. I doubt Maddox has ever been in over his head even once in his life.
Not that Cohen has ever been in over his head, but he has six brothers so surely he can sympathize when one of them gets a stick up his ass and starts making commands that are none of his damn business.
“Upstairs.”
I don’t hesitate, pushing past him and starting up the stairs. It’s only when I reach the second floor, where all the private suites are, that I realize I might still be a little drunk and have lipstick smeared on my face and neck. It would be smart to slow down, to give myself time to gather my wits and figure out a game plan, but it’s as if I have too much momentum. I can’t stop, no matter how ill-advised this is.
Cohen and Maddox’s room is at the far end of the north hall. As best as I can tell, his bride, Winry—Monroe’s little sister—has been sharing their room the entire time. Unlike Broderick, who ceded his new space to Monroe and has been sleeping alone gods knew where. Because that makes sense. Avoid the problem and hope it goes away.
Just like he’s been avoiding me.
How dare he think he can tell me what I should or shouldn’t be doing? I’ve seen him a grand total of three times in three weeks, and each time he’s all but sprinted from my presence the second he gets an opening.
Not too long ago, I might have listened to him if he told me to stay away from Monroe. Our friendship has spanned nearly a full third of my life. In that time, Broderick has been nothing but steady and stable and taken care of everyone around him. He’s not the type to fly off the handle or lose his temper over something ridiculous. He just handles shit.
Until now.
Maybe in a day or two, I’ll be able to admit that coming back to Sabine Valley has put him into a tailspin, but I’m too busy doing my own spin out to worry about him. If this was any other time, any other place, we’d lean on each other until the ground steadied beneath our feet. It’s what we’ve always done in the past. I’ve grown to depend on the belief that no matter how scary things get, I will always feel Broderick steady at my back. Just like I’ll always have his back, too.
Except… He doesn’t have my back right now. I’m left here, standing on my own, for the first time in years. The man only shows up to tell me what I can and can’t do before disappearing again to hide from his Bride.
Yeah, fuck that.
I lift my hand to knock on Cohen’s door, but it opens before I get the chance, revealing the man himself. He’s big and burly, with red hair and a red beard and tattoos over most of his exposed skin. Not that I can see much of them with his long-sleeved Henley and jeans. He also looks…frazzled. I blink. I’ve never seen Cohen anything less than cold and remote. The relief on his face when he sees me has me taking a step back.
“Is everything okay?” I ask warily.
“No.” He pulls the door shut behind him and grabs my arm, steering me away from the room. He’s moving at such a quick pace that I have to practically skip to keep up with him. I don’t get a chance to ask more questions, because he hauls me up another set of stairs and practically hurls me into a dust-filled room that looks like it might have been a living room at some point.