Fire with Fire (Crash and Burn, Book 3) (A Military Romance) Read Free Page A

the TV. The game’s going to restart in a few minutes, and the commentators are yammering on and on about stats and injuries and expectations for the second half.
    “Dunno. Guess we’ll have to see.”
    We watch the rest of the game, not talking about anything serious, offering thoughts on the plays. I can’t help but feel a bit uneasy still, and that headache won’t quite go away. I want to talk to someone about this, find out the right way to handle it with my dad.
    I want to text Lauren. Call her, hear her voice in my ear, her soothing me that everything will be fine. So badly it’s like my whole body craves her.
    Instead, I keep my phone tucked away, fight the impulse. I’m still hurt and confused and frustrated about what happened between her and her sister, between her and I, and for once, I’m the one needing space to figure out where to go from here.
    At the end of the game, Dad stands, stretches, empty beer bottle in hand. “Heading to bed.”
    “Night,” I say.
    “See ya in the morning.” With that, he goes up the stairs to his room.
    I click the TV off and, grabbing my phone, go to the back patio. Cool evening air greets me, and I settle into a metal chair, the cushion a little too thin to be comfortable for long. I kick my legs back, stare up at the starry sky. A few trees in the backyard obscure my view, but stars dot between leaves. It’s clear and pretty out.
    Once again, the urge to call Lauren hits me, and once again, I fight it off. I’m not fucking doing that. Instead, I dial my brother’s number. Hopefully I’m not waking anyone up. He’s usually a night owl, though.
    “’Lo?” Xander says.
    “Hey, how goes things?” I say.
    “Fine. Got the little shithead to bed. He was in a mood today.” My brother groans, and I can almost see the sour look on his face.
    “We used to be like that too, remember?”
    “Don’t remind me. I already know I’m paying for the sins of my youth.”
    I laugh, then sober quickly. “So…Dad’s home.”
    “Really. How is he? What did he say to you? Is he still up? Can I talk to him?” Xander’s questions are rapid-fire, and when he finally stops to take a breath, I interject.
    “He’s fine. He’s up in bed right now. I figured he needed some sleep. He looked tired.” I sigh. “Haven’t seen him like that since the funeral.”
    “Is he coming to work tomorrow?”
    “I don’t know.” I debate for a moment if I should mention the bar aspect of our conversation to Xander or leave it to Dad to bring it up.
    “What are you not saying?” Savvy as ever. My brother knows me too fucking well.
    “He’s…” I clear my throat. “Dad doesn’t want to run the bar anymore. He asked me to help until you two can find someone to buy him out as partner.”
    “Holy shit,” Xander breathes. “Really? I—I don’t know what to do here. I’m glad he’s home but I’m still pissed at him for taking off like that. It wasn’t right.”
    “I think he feels bad,” I offer, “for what it’s worth. And I’m sure he’ll talk more tomorrow. He knows he needs to talk to you too. So maybe sit on that info until he brings it up.”
    “Fuck.” The curse is little more than a low growl. “Fine. But if he doesn’t bring it up tomorrow, I’m hunting him down and making him talk to me.”
    “Don’t blame you.” And he will, too. My brother is already overstressed and tired. He can’t keep running like this much longer. At least he has a direction to move in now, something I’m sure he’s glad about. The worst part is not knowing.
    “So…thanks. I know this isn’t in your plans, but I really appreciate you helping me out with the bar. Hopefully we can find a new partner soon and you can go back to working part-time hours or whatever you want.” The appreciation in his voice is clear, and a bit more of my tension fades.
    “No prob. Glad to help. I could use a distraction anyway.” Shit, I didn’t mean to admit that. Kinda slipped