Never Never(26)

I probably should have hit the *, but I don’t hate him enough to do that yet. I also don’t like him enough to be affected by his reaction. It does confuse me, though.

He picks up a paperweight and hurls it across the room, luckily not in my direction. It smashes against a wooden shelf and knocks the contents to the floor. A few books. A picture frame. A rock.

I stand still and watch him pace back and forth, beads of sweat dripping from his forehead. I don’t understand why he could possibly be this upset over the fact that Charlie was here today. Especially since Ezra said we grew up together.

His palms are now flat against the desk. He’s breathing heavily, nostrils flaring like a raging bull. I expect him to start kicking up dust with his foot any second now. “We had an understanding, Silas. Me and you. I wasn’t going to push you to testify if you swore to me you wouldn’t see that man’s daughter again.” One of his hands flail toward a locked cabinet while his other hand runs through what’s left of his thinning hair. “I know you don’t think she took those files from this office, but I know she did! And the only reason I haven’t pursued it further is because you swore to me we wouldn’t have to deal with that family again. And here you are…” He shudders. Literally shudders. “Here you are bringing her to this house like the last twelve months never even happened!” More frustrated hand flailing, twisted facial expressions. “That girl’s father almost ruined this family, Silas! Does that not mean a damn thing to you?”

Not really, I want to say.

I make a mental note to never get this angry. It’s not an attractive look on a Nash.

I search for some sort of emotion that conveys remorse, so that he can see it on my face. It’s hard though, when the only thing I’m experiencing is curiosity.

The door to the office opens and we both move our attention to whomever is entering.

“Landon, this doesn’t concern you,” my father says, his voice soft. I briefly face my father again, just to make sure the words actually fell from his mouth and not someone else’s. It almost sounds like the voice of a caring father, rather than the monster I just witnessed.

Landon—nice to finally know my little brother’s name—looks at me. “Coach is on the phone for you, Silas.”

I glance back at my father, who now has his back turned to me. I assume that means our conversation is over. I walk toward the door and gladly exit the room, followed closely by Landon.

“Where’s the phone?” I ask him when I reach the stairs. Valid question, though. How am I supposed to know if he called on a cell phone or a landline?

Landon laughs and moves past me. “There’s no phone call. I was just getting you out of there.”

He continues up the stairs and I watch as he reaches the top and then turns left, disappearing down the hall. He’s a good brother, I think. I make my way to what I assume is his room, and I knock lightly on the door. It’s slightly ajar, so I push it open. “Landon?” I open the door all the way and he’s seated at a desk. He looks over his shoulder briefly and then returns his attention to his computer. “Thanks,” I say, stepping into the room. Do brothers thank each other? Probably not. I should have said something along the lines of, “Took you long enough, *.”

Landon turns in his chair and tilts his head. A combination of confusion and admiration plays out in his smile. “I’m not sure what your deal is. You aren’t showing up for practice, and that’s never happened. You act like you don’t give a shit that Charlie has been screwing Brian Finley. And then you have the balls to bring her here? After all the shit Dad and Brett went through?” He shakes his head. “I’m surprised you escaped his office without a bloodbath.”

He spins back around and leaves me to process everything. I turn and rush toward my bedroom.

Brett Wynwood, Brett Wynwood, Brett Wynwood.

I repeat his name in my head so I’ll know exactly what to search when I get to my computer. Surely I have a computer.

When I reach my room, the first thing I do is walk to my dresser. I pick up the pen Charlie handed me earlier today and read the imprint again.

WYNWOOD-NASH FINANCIAL GROUP.

I search the room until I finally find a laptop stuffed in the drawer of my bedside table. I power it on and enter the password.

I remember the password? Add that to the list of shit that makes no sense.

I type Wynwood-Nash Financial Group into the search engine. I click on the first result and am taken to a page that reads, “Nash Finance,” with the Wynwood noticeably absent. I scroll quickly through the page and discover nothing that helps. Just a bunch of useless company contact information.