Page 13 of Small Town, Big Storm

My father?—

Bile burns the back of my throat as I grind out, “We’re not redoing anything, and I’m sure as fuck not living here.We’re selling the house and putting all this shit behind us.”

The silence that follows is charged with pain, with violence, with anger…with all the things that make HarrisonsHarrisons.

But Rain doesn’t launch forward and punch me, as I expect.He just a sighs, sets the chisel aside, and leans back against the counter, his eyes seeing far too much.“So you can leave again?”

Rage explodes inside me, turning my words into something so biting and guttural I can barely understand them.AndI’mthe one fucking speaking them.“Are you kidding me with that shit?”

He just lifts his brows.“You’re the one who left for seven years.”

“And you get medal for what?”I growl.“For coming back a year ago?You left too, asshole, and you have no right to judge me for doing the same.”

He left me to the violence, to the rage, to the pain.

He left me to deal with it alone.

I woke up one morning and he was gone, bags packed, room empty.

After he promised?—

“I went away to college,” he says quietly.“It’s not like I was fucking my way through half the female populace and spending all my free time in bar fights.”

Likeyouis the insinuation.

Hell, it’s the fucking truth.

The last year I’ve?—

No.

I’m not fucking going there.Not in this house.Not in this town.Not ever again.

“What doIknow about how you spent those years?”I shrug, the venom in my tone deadly.“Except that you sure as shit didn’t care enough to look back.”

Didn’t care enough about me to check in.

Didn’t care enough to make sure I was safe?—

“What are you trying to say?”

“That you’re as much of a selfish prick as I am?”

He’s in my face in an instant.

“What?”I taunt.“Are you gonna take a page out of the Harrison Family Playbook and beat the shit out of me?I could take it then, could take it when you left me alone to face it, and I can definitely take it now, asshole”

A jerk through his body, and for a second, I think heisgoing to hit me.AndGodI want that.I want it so much, want the excuse to hit him back, to draw blood and break knuckles and destroy the fucked-up remains of the past we’re standing in.

But he just holds still for a long moment before he sighs and shakes his head, goes back to his?—

Tap.Tap.Tapping.

“Dad left the house to both of us,” he points out, like a fucking dog to a bone.

“You’re seriously trying to make that point as you’re actively changing something that we shouldbothhave an opinion about?”

“Youwantto keep this shitty tile?”he asks dryly.