Page 9 of Wandering in Love
He nods. “Hey, Ian.”
I don’t respond. It doesn’t take me long to find my brother. He’s in the tack room conditioning a saddle when I walk in.
He turns around, not really surprised to see me. I’m here a lot.
“Get up,” I growl, my tone deep and dangerous.
He cocks his head, but sets his stuff down to stand up. I don’t give him any warning; I just swing at him. My fist connects with his jaw, snapping his head to the side. My breathing is too fast, and blood pumps through my veins to fuel my body, anger and pain wrapping around me like a vise grip. I hate this feeling.
Will shakes his head and comes after me, ducking down to get his shoulder in my gut, taking me to the ground. He lands a solid hit to my kidney, making me grunt. I split his lip with my elbow. We’re wrestling on the ground, no one paying us any mind as they go about their work.
“Are you kidding me?” Momma hollers.
Will turns toward her voice, leaving him open for another hit to the solar plexus. He doubles over, the wind knocked out of him.
“Ian Rojas!” she yells, stomping toward us. Using the folder in her hand, she smacks me on the back of my head. “What the hell are you doing?”
Will smirks at me for a second before Momma smacks the back of his head too.
His lip is bleeding and we’re both breathing hard. We’re dirty and sweaty with bruises forming. I don’t really feel better, and that just pisses me off even more.
“What the hell is wrong with you two? Acting like a couple of fools.” She points at us, still on the ground. “Kitchen, both of you.”
We grumble, but do as we’re told.
“I’m the sheriff, ya know,” I mumble under my breath.
“You back-talking me?” Momma asks.
“No, ma’am.”
From the corner of my eye, Will smirks.
“Fuck off,” I mutter.
Momma smacks the back of my head again as she marches us into the house and to the bar stools in the kitchen.
She grabs a bag of ice, wraps it in a towel, and hands it to Will for his lip. Crossing her arms, she leans against the counter and looks at me, waiting for an explanation.
My jaw clenches. I don’t have one.
“I’m waiting, Ian.”
“I was itching for a fight. Will’s face was the first to come to mind,” I snap.
“And that’s the behavior our sheriff should be participating in?” She raises her eyebrow at me, cocking her head.
“He’s my little brother. It comes with the territory. Anyone else would have me on assault charges.”
“If you don’t rein in that temper—”
I shove the stool back, and it falls over with a crash on the wood floor.
“I’m a grown man. I don’t need my momma telling me how to act!” I holler, my voice echoing through the house.
“You best watch the way you talk her.” Dad’s threat comes from the sliding back door. “She may be your momma, but she’s my wife, and I won’t tolerate anyone talking to my wife that way.”
Spinning away from my family, my fists clenched, I storm out of the house and back to my car. Everything is spinning out of control. I haven’t felt this crazed since she up and left. What is it about this girl that ties me up in knots, making me crazy?