Page 9 of Broken Trust
I splash cold water over my face in the bathroom sink and hiss when it hits the cut over my eye.
I examine my beat-up appearance.
Still pretty.
Fifty grand for a round win in the finals softens the pain considerably. It’s not championship money. But it’s a good chunk of change to add to the nest egg I’ve built with the fistful of wins I’ve had over the last few years.
Enough to keep me coming back for more.
When I head back downstairs, Royce is already there with fresh jeans and a clean shirt, though his arm’s hanging stiff at his side.
“You need to ice that,” I say as he slides his ball cap back in place.
“I need food.”
Dad snorts from the living room. “That’s my boy.”
Five minutes later, we climb back into the truck and head toward the main ranch house—the heart of Wildhaven Storm.
The place that raised all of us.
Light spills from every window by the time we pull up. Laughter floats through the open front door before we even make it inside.
And suddenly, we’re swarmed.
“Axle!”
My youngest cousin, Harleigh, barrels into me first, like an overexcited puppy in cowboy boots. She nearly knocks me backward with the force of her hug.
I laugh and spin her once despite my head protesting. “Wildfire.” I sing her nickname before setting her back on her feet.
Her sister Charli is next.
“I heard you watched Bryce win over a million dollars last night.” She beams.
“Unfortunately.”
She gasps dramatically. “Jealousy looks ugly on you, cousin.”
I wave her off. “We took it easy on the old guy. Figured we’d let him have one last hurrah before he’s let out to pasture.”
A deep voice sounds from the living room. “I heard that.”
Bryce lounges on the couch with one arm slung over the back, looking as smug as a man who just became even richer should.
Charli smirks at me as she leans in and whispers, “He’s insufferable at the moment.”
“At the moment?” I ask. “How’s that any different from usual?”
Bryce flips me off lazily.
I grin.
My oldest cousin, Matty, emerges from the kitchen, carrying her one-year-old son, AJ, on her hip. Ranch manager mode has softened a little since she became a mother, but she still carries herself like she’s personally responsible for keeping every living creature on this ranch alive. Which honestly? She pretty muchis. There were a few years where things around here were held together by duct tape and Matty’s unyielding will.
Her eyes sweep over Royce and me carefully. “Good to see you boys back in one piece.”
“Mostly,” Royce mumbles.
