I swing around and duck Wyatt’s punch. He’s a sloppy fighter—all wrath and ego with very little strategy. I use his faults to my benefit. I dodge his attacks for the next minute or two. By the time my brain regains control of itself, Wyatt’s only managed to kick me in the ass and scrape my shoulder.
“Genetics are weird,” I say, cracking my neck to each side. “You look like your mom, and Taryn looks like Rooster. Pretty fucking creepy.”
Wyatt’s temper rages, hitting another level as he rushes me. I can’t dodge his attack, so I lean into it. Nailing him in the jaw with my elbow. Digging my boot into his inner ankle. Punching his lean, lady throat.
That last one gives Wyatt pause, forcing him to shove me off. I nearly topple into the drink table.
“Thunder cunt!” Mom yells from the other side of the room, where she’s wrestling on the ground with her sister.
“Fat bitch!” Bambi screams back.
Honestly, them throwing down is a monthly thing, so I don’t pay it much attention. I do glance at Monroe and find her crawling after DeAnna, like a predator stalking her prey.
Wyatt rubs his neck, maybe worried something will snap and put him in a wheelchair. He hears DeAnna cry out and turns to check on her. I use that moment to knock him on his ass with a solid right hook. Falling on top of Wyatt, I start swinging like when we were kids, and his bullying made me cry. Grown-up now, I use my big fists to break his lady face.
Hitting my groove, I pummel him until he’s a bloody mess under me. The world disappears except for my desire to keep Wyatt from ever annoying me again. I think of every fucking time he messed with me. Each snide comment he ever made. The smirk I caught him flashing during my dad’s funeral. The millions of times he mocked my mentally ill mom. I remember every damn insult until my mind focuses on him reaching for Monroe today. As much as I hate DeAnna, I’d never put my hands on her. But Wyatt was ready to cross that line with my woman. He ought to die for that alone.
“Enough,” Bronco says, suddenly yanking me off Wyatt while Rooster kneels down to check on his bloodied son.
“Are you fucking kidding?” I growl at my uncle. “Where were you when he was giving me a concussion?”
Bronco shrugs. “Over by the appetizers.” When I snarl at him, pissed that he ruined my chance to finish off Wyatt, he smiles. “Geez, kid, you can’t kill your cousin at a community function. Murders are strictly for family get-togethers. Now, back down and go check on your woman before she flashes her panties again.”
“Panties, you say?” I ask as horny pride overtakes my rage. “Did she win? Either of her tits pop out of her bra?”
Bronco guides me to where Monroe sits with Topanga, Lana, and Pixie. I smile at my honey as I drop into the seat next to hers.
“Using my head as a weapon might have been a mistake,” she says, holding a napkin filled with ice against her forehead. “Are you in pain?”
“Winning is worth the suffering,” I murmur before cupping her face and staring into her big brown eyes. “I applaud your triumph over two foes.”
“DeAnna barely put up a fight. I think Pixie breaking her nose turned the slut into a pansy,” Monroe says, flashing a smile at Anders’s hippie chick.
“Do you want to leave?”
“No way. This party ain’t over until I’m too full, drunk, and tired to move my ass. Then, you can drag me to the parking lot and find a way to relocate me back to the Overlook.”
“Better still. Why not sleep at my place?”
Monroe must see something on my face. She moves from her chair to my lap and places her makeshift ice pack against the back of my head.
“Only if we can have loud sex that echoes over to your mother’s side of the house,” she murmurs, smirking like a naughty little bitch.
“Deal.”
As if beckoned by a mere mention of her existence, Barbie plops down where Monroe once sat. She steals a sweaty beer bottle from the table and places it against her jaw.
“This is her fault,” Mom says, gesturing toward my honey.
“Bull-fucking-shit,” Monroe replies before I can defend her. “I just arrived in Elko a month ago. You had plenty of time to put these people in their place before I ever got here. Instead, you slacked off for decades and let these shitheads get away with their crap. However, you raised a wonderful son, so I’ll forgive your laziness in other matters.”
“Bitch,” Mom grumbles, smiling behind her beer bottle. “I wanted a sweet girl for Conor.”
Topanga bursts into laughter before switching to tears. Finally, she descends into a weird mix of both. Pixie frowns while Lana hugs the crying woman.
“I wanted today to be pleasant,” Topanga says, wiping tears from her cheek.
“But you knew Taryn wanted to upset Monroe,” Pixie says, refusing to edit herself. “And what Taryn wants, she gets.”
“Stupid little bitch,” Mom grumbles.
Pixie narrows her dark eyes and growls, “You’re stupid.”
“I meant Taryn,” Barbie explains.
“Oh, then you’re very smart.”
Accustomed to the hippie’s ways, Mom smiles. “What’s the point of them doing stupid shit? Taryn ain’t finding a man any faster by acting like a cunt at the community parties. Wyatt won’t be president even if he breaks your brain,” she mutters, reaching over to rub my head. “It’s just noise. That’s why I punched Bambi. She should have raised her kids better.”
Frowning, I suddenly become aware that Lowell and Anders are missing. Bronco returned to the bloody mess I made, but I don’t know where his sidekicks went.
“They took the women outside to cool down,” Pixie explains and waves toward Barbie. “They were making too many screeching noises.”
“I don’t screech,” Mom grumbles at Pixie.
Pixie looks ready to reenact my mother’s noises. Instead, she just smiles.
“I want people to treat you well,” Topanga says, reaching across the small round table and patting Monroe’s hand.
Without missing a beat, my honey replies, “Because it’s a sign of respect for you?”
“No, because your life was difficult before coming here. I wanted you to have more now.”
Monroe looks at me and frowns. Yeah, Topanga is good at laying on the guilt. Monroe sighs and glances at her step-mom.
“I appreciate that, but you have to understand that I don’t give a crap about these people. I didn’t care about Uncle Clive’s minions, either. My heart focuses on the people who mean everything to me while the rest of the world is just noise.”
“Can I be one of the special people?” Pixie asks, making Topanga frown. “I warned you about the vagina move not working.”
Monroe smiles wider. “Of course, you’re one of those special people. Everyone at this table and their immediate families are those people.”
I snort when she emphasizes “immediate” and glance back at where Wyatt once bled. The rift between Bambi and Mom widened after Lana arrived. The anger was always there, stemming from a rotten childhood and temperamental personalities.
Then, Mom freaked out on Lana, and Bambi took Bronco’s side. After Mom started her medication, Bronco and Lana made up with her. Yet, the sisters remained hostile toward each other. Just recently, I’ve accepted their lingering hostility comes from them having sons who want the same job.