Staring down at me, eyebrows pinched together. Looking at me like she was worried for me instead of afraid of me.
“I’m sorry,” my dad was saying, sounding all kinds of embarrassed. “You probably shouldn’t be here.”
No.
“Who’re you?” I asked before my dad could send her away.
“Savannah, honey,” someone called out from farther away.
The girl looked behind her before skipping off in that direction, and I tried to go after her. Stop her. But I couldn’t move because my dad was still holding me in place.
“She can’t go. Dad, she can’t—who is she?”
When he didn’t say anything, I looked up. Heart racing like a stampede of wild horses because I needed to stop that girl before she disappeared.
But he was just staring at me. Eyes and mouth wide like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
“I’m so sorry,” that same, distant voice called out, and we both looked in that direction, but I couldn’t see anything from where I was. “We wanted to come introduce ourselves, but we’ll come back another time.”
“Oh no,” Momma began, and Dad huffed out a soft laugh as he waved and said, “Just another day around here, ma’am. Sorry for the wild welcome wagon, but don’t feel like y’all have to run off. It was just clearin’ up here.”
Silence followed for a few seconds before that same voice said, “If you’re sure. We won’t take up much of your time.”
“’Course we’re sure,” Dad said, then gave me a look. Like he was making sure I wasn’t gonna go for Cayson again as soon as he let me up.
I didn’t say a thing. I just waited, needing to see that girl. To know I hadn’t imagined her.
As soon as he stood, I scrambled to follow. My eyes searching and landing on where she stood next to a real pretty lady.
Both were looking at me. Something about their stares had my stomach twisting up. But not like it did when I felt sick. This was different. Like I was embarrassed for something I had no control over.
The woman reached into the car they were next to and pulled out something covered up that looked like it might’ve been a cake, but it didn’t matter. I wasn’t sure anything mattered anymore other than the girl beside her because she’d stopped it.
“Well, I’m Christi Riley, and this is my daughter, Savannah,” the woman said as they came closer.
“Riley!” my momma said, sounding all kinds of excited like she knew who these people were. “Y’all bought the land next to ours.”
“That’s right,” Mrs. Riley said, a smile stretching over her face.
“Oh, and what an impression we’ve made,” Momma said as she walked up to hug her like they were friends or something. “I’m Wendy, and this is my husband, Mike. These are just two of our boys, Cayson and . . . well, you heard our Beau.” Momma laughed, but the way she looked at me was the same way she always did after I got mad.
Like she was tired. Like I made her tired.
“Well, it’s great meeting you,” Mrs. Riley said. “My husband would’ve joined us, but he got a call from the company he’s separating from as we were headed out, and these calls have lasted hours lately.”
“We’ll meet him soon,” Momma said with a wave of her hand. “Why don’t y’all come in? I just made some tea.”
Mrs. Riley looked from me to my dad and then my momma. “We don’t want to impose . . .”
“Nonsense,” Momma said.
Dad gave another one of those soft laughs. “What you see is what you get with us. Gets a little loud and crazy around here sometimes, but that happens when you have four boys close in age. Might as well just dive on in with this rowdy crew seeing as we’re now each other’s only neighbors for miles.”
At that, Mrs. Riley laughed and started for the house. “I guess we can stay for a few minutes.”
I watched her daughter follow after her, her head turning to continue looking at me. But Dad had a hand on my shoulder, keeping me in place until they were up the stairs and inside.
Then he was turning me to face him and bending down to my eye level, looking at me like he was real concerned. “You good, son?”
My head bobbed.
“You were hurtin’ your brother.”
“I know, sir,” I said quietly as the fight with Cayson flashed through my mind the way it always did. Dizzying me up because it was blurry and confusing. Bits and pieces that only told parts of what happened.
He let out a slow, long breath. “Gotta be more careful. Gotta control it,” he said and tapped his fingers against my chest.
I went still.
Too still.
And then I started shaking from deep in my bones. A warning that the anger would come if I was pushed a little more . . . and all because he’d tapped me.
“We’ll talk more later,” he said firmly as he straightened. “Hose yourself off.”
I don’t know how long I stayed there, trying to do what he’d said—control it. But by the time I finally started moving toward the side of the house where the hose was, she was there.
“Why are you so angry?”
My head snapped up and my eyes found her instantly. Standing on the porch, leaning over the railing and looking at me the way she had earlier . . . like she was worried.
Eyes like honey full of concern instead of fear. Long black hair twisted in a braid and falling over her shoulder. Face so dang pretty it was hard to look at her, but I also wasn’t sure I could look away.
“I don’t know,” I answered.
Her head tilted like she was thinking real hard. “You get in a fight with your brother?”
“I always get in fights with my brothers.”
“But is that why you’re mad?”
My head was shaking before she finished asking the question. “No, ma’am. I get in fights with them because I’m mad.”
A bright smile crossed her face, her giggle following soon after. “Ma’am? I’m nine years old!”
“Me too.” I shrugged. “But my momma taught us to respect women of all ages, and I’m pretty sure you’re an angel.”
She threw her head back as another laugh left her. When she looked at me again, her eyes were narrowed curiously. “What’s your name?”
“Beau Dixon.”
“Well, why do you say that, Beau Dixon?”
I dropped my stare to the grass for a moment as that feeling from earlier formed in my stomach—like I was embarrassed. With another shrug, I looked at her and said, “Because you made it stop.”
Her smile disappeared. “Made what stop?”
“Everything.”
She watched me for a while, her eyebrows pulling together again. “What’s that mean?”
I thought about the way her voice had broken through the anger and need to hurt someone. Thought about the way my anger could take over in an instant . . .
I didn’t understand it. I couldn’t control it. How was I supposed to explain it to some girl?
“Can’t explain it,” I mumbled. “Any of it.”
“Well, can you tell me why you’re covered in mud?”
The corner of my mouth pulled into a frown. “My brother.”