Page 95 of Blue Norther
Beau’s eyes dropped to Ryan’s hand for a split second while I silently begged him not to do anything stupid. But if there was one thing I knew about Colt’s brothers, without a doubt, whether they were still upset with me or not, they would protect me.
Beau lunged. Ryan held onto me as he stepped towards Beau, pulling his hand back before slamming the brass knuckles at full force into Beau’s jaw. I watched in an instant as he fell to the floor.
“Beau!” I dropped to my knees, my entire belly hurting from the sudden movements. Oh God. He wasn’t moving. He wasn’t groaning. I…I couldn’t tell if he was breathing. He needed help. I had to get him help.
“Come on. We need to get going.” Ryan’s hand wrapped around my arm, grasping so tightly I winced.
“Connor…I need…” The words burned in my throat. “I need to say goodbye.”
His eyes blazed, but he nodded. “Two minutes, Cal.”
I got up to my feet, ignoring the burning pain, and scooped Connor up. “Come on, sweetheart.” My voice wavered as I walked towards the stairs.
“Callie?”
“He needs to go in his crib, where he’ll be safe until Colt comes back. Please. Then I’ll go. I promise.”
Ryan followed me upstairs. I wished there was something I could have used as a weapon. I wished my arms and legs didn’t feel like they were dead weight. I was terrified I was about to drop the baby or trip with him in my arms.
But I made it to his room. I made it to the crib. And I gave my beautiful boy one last kiss as I laid him down.
My legs gave out, knees hitting the floor with a loud thud. Ryan pulled me to my feet, shoving me towards the door.
The last thing I heard before I was dragged down the hall was the soft cooing of my newborn baby.
Colt
Istormed up the front steps of my brother’s house, the sun warm on my back. I thought about just walking right in, but stopped short of the door, knocking twice while swearing under my breath.
It only took a minute for my brother to answer the door. I looked him over, same sandy-blonde hair he’d had since we were all kids, a scruffy beard that he’d grown in the months after his accident. He was dressed in a white shirt, jeans, and had a flannel on. What the hell was Hayes' problem? Lachlan looked fine!
“Uh, what’s going on? And since when are you just out and about? Vi finally get sick of you hovering and kick you out?”
“No. Hayes called me. Said something was going on with you and I needed to talk some sense into your head. Feel like inviting me in?”
“That’s a hard pass. Thanks for stopping by.”
Lachlan moved to close the door, but I was faster. I stopped the movement with my palm, sliding in past him. His cane slipped out, slapping across my thighs.
“Don’t take another step in here without taking your boots off,” he demanded.
“Fine.” I slipped my boots off. Normally, I’d just leave them right where they landed—I wouldn’t be staying long anyway—but I noticed how his shoes were all lined up and facing the wall. I’d never seen him do that before.
“Come on. I have some coffee brewing. Feel like having a cup since you fucking barged in here?”
“Yeah,” I answered, still looking around. “That sounds great.”
Listen, my brother wasn’t a messy person, but he also was never super clean. Hell, as a mechanic, he used to come home covered in grease and who the hell knows what else. It covered his clothes. His skin. But as I walked through his inexplicably clean house, I heard the water turn on in the kitchen. He was washing his hands. The water turned off as I walked in. But a second later, he was back to washing his hands.
“Lach?”
He sighed, shaking his head. I thought he’d turn off the water and come sit at the table with me, but he didn’t. I watched my brother turn off the water, wipe his hands off on the towel next to the sink, and brace his arms on the counter.
I saw what Hayes did. I saw the pain radiating off our brother.
“I have to wash them again.”
“What? Why?” I asked.
