Page 46 of Small Town, Big Storm

“Fuck Dad,” I snap.“When did you find out about Holly?”

He opens his beer, tosses the bottle cap into the darkened yard, and takes a long sip, exhaling heavily.“About two days after I came home.”He looks at me again.“Mostly because this is Cedar Hollow.”

And everyone knows everything about every fucking one.

Christ.

“Who told you?”

He shrugs.“Fuck if I know.I heard a whisper—or a dozen of them, more accurately.Then I asked Poppy.”Another shrug.“It’s not a surprise, you know.Those eyes.The timing of it all.”

“Why didn’t—?”I cut myself off.

Why didn’t he tell me?

Because I wasn’t here.

Because I wouldn’t have talked to him even if he’d tried.

Because I’m a Harrison and assholery runs in my genes.

Rain smirks.“Yeah,” he mutters, “I see that you’re finally putting the pieces together.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck you right back.”

I scowl at him, at the sky, at the back yard.

At the trees and the tire swing Rain and I cobbled together one summer.

It’s still hanging from one of the branches, looking significantly worse for wear.

But still there.

Same as the old rusty shed is taking up one corner of the yard and the makeshift hockey net is in the other.

God, I’d spent so many hours out here.

Practicing my shot until I could hit any spot I wanted.

But really, hiding from the shit happening inside.

“What are you going to do about Holly?”he asks.

I frown.“What do you mean?”

“Are you going to stick around?”His jaw is hard, a muscle flickering in his cheek.“Or are you going to leave them again?”

My chest goes tight.

Because coming back to Cedar Hollow—and doing it in a more permanent way—is the last fucking thing I want.

But—

“What the fuck do you think?”I growl.

His eyes—different from mine in color, but I hear Poppy’s voice in my head when I see the anger lurking, the pain and rage of the past hidden in their deep blue depths—lock with mine.