Page 71 of Smoke Screen
Phin poked a finger. “Listen, fucker, I’m not saying it again. It’s already vinegar on my tongue. Accept it or we got nothing more to say.”
Ash reached out, planted his hand on Phin’s chest and shoved, knocking him back a step. “I accept it, moron. I owe you an apology, too. I showed up pissed off and ready to fight. I should’ve heard you out first.”
Phin lifted one shoulder. He’d gotten himself into a pickle with his two oldest brothers, and nothing about it felt right. Not because he’d helped Maddy, no question there. He did what needed to be done.
Going a few rounds with his brothers shouldn’t have been the result.
And yet, here they were.
“Zeke ripped into me last night. I fucked this whole thing up. I’m not saying I wouldn’t have brought her here, but I didn’t think it through.”
“You worked on instinct. You’ve always been good at that.”
Whoa.Phin stood for a second, Ash’s words looping in his mind. Pressure built in his chest, squeezing against his ribs. Phin tore his gaze from Ash, stared out at the mountain beyond and breathed. In the absence of his father, over the last eleven years, all Phin had wanted was to make Ash, who’d taken on the role of father figure like a champ, proud.
Thinking back on it, Phin had never, not once, admitted it. Blackwell boys didn’t give oxygen to emotional nonsense.
No chance.
He drew in the thick morning air, let it douse the fire searing his throat.
What do I need?
Hell if he knew. Might be time to grow the fuck up and figure it out.
After a few seconds, he came back to Ash, the guy who’d always—always—been there. Whether it was offering advice on navigating teenage hormones or defending him when Mom got pissed, Ash, in Dad’s absence, had been the go-to guy.
Phin never thanked him. Or even gave him credit.
He locked his gaze on Ash’s. “Who do you think taught me? I spent my childhood watching you and learned way more than schmoozing from you. I’m talking the important stuff that’ll keep me a productive member of society and twenty minutes ago, being the asswipe I am, I called you self-centered.”
“You were pissed.”
“Still a douche move.”
“Ho-kay.” Ash clapped him on the arm. “We’re good.”
“Thanks. For everything. You’ve always been there for me.”
Ash let out a grunt. “Reallygetting soft here, pal.” His voice tightened, took on the rough edge of busted concrete.
Blackwell men. Zero capabilities with emotions.
Clearly pained over the conversation, Ash cleared his throat. “I appreciate that. I do. But I’m the oldest. I did what Dad wanted. You were sixteen when he died. I got lucky. I had him into my twenties. Those last days? Man, that was brutal. He was worried about us and I wanted him to die in peace.” Ash stopped, caught his breath, cleared his throat again. “I told him I’d take care of everyone. It made him happy. I’ve done my best, but it’ll never be enough.”
What now? Phin fought the urge to react. To let his mouth drop open. Or to fucking fall right off his feet.
His father had always been the strong, hard-nosed one, doing whatever it took to provide and keep his sons in line. Even if his methods might get him arrested nowadays.
Don’t start a fight, but I’ll kick your ass if you walk away from one.
Then there was the classic,if you’re getting beat, go for the throat.
That was Dad. In Phin’s eyes, he’d been … a god.
A warrior god.
Now, imagining his warrior god father worried, shifted the ground, right along with Phin’s world.
