K. Weiland - Storming

Griff kept coming. “You can’t stand there and tell me some part of you hasn’t always believed you’re going to slide by, one more time, and still get what you want. Because you always have, right?” He stopped in front of Hitch, only a few feet between them. He was actually trembling. “You always slid by, with a wink and a nod, doing exactly what you pleased and nothing else. And everybody forgave you for it. Everybody loved you anyway.”

Nan reached for Griff’s arm. “That is not what’s happening here. Griff—”

He ignored her. “ I loved you, Hitch. I forgave you. Every single time. You’d go running off to chase your rainbows, and I would cover for you. I’d make excuses for you. That’s my big brother, Hitch Hitchcock! Isn’t he somethin’? And I believed it. Even after you left and let us all down, I believed it.”

This was heading to a fight and fast. Hitch backed off a few steps, both to maybe mollify Griff and to get a little distance between them and Nan and Aurelia.

He tried to keep a calm voice. “Griff…”

“But guess what?” Griff closed the distance to barely a foot. “I stopped believing a long time ago. You’ve got no more excuses left.” He spread his arms. “You think there’s a person here you haven’t hurt?”

Most of what he was saying was true enough. Hitch had admitted that from the start. But how long was this supposed to go on? He’d come home. He’d admitted he’d been wrong; he’d apologized with all his heart. What more was there?

His own anger flared. “I know I messed it up. And I’ll shout it to the world if you want me to. But I can’t take any of it back. It’s done .”

“Nothing’s done! It goes on every single day. Every day , Hitch! You think coming back here fixed things? It didn’t fix anything. You come back, and the whole world falls apart! Everything happening right now—to this town and everybody in it—is because of you. You cannot tell me you haven’t had a hand in every bit of it!”

“It fell into my lap, same as it did yours. Back off, Griff.”

He maybe deserved some of this, but not everything. And he was sick of it. So help him, it was time for all of them to let go of the past and cut their losses, one way or another. Nan was right about that.

He clenched and unclenched his fists. “You don’t want to fight me, and you know it.”

Griff’s glare flashed. Something in his face seemed to snap. “Don’t I? Things are different now, Hitch, and we’re not kids anymore. Family is about being there when people need you. You weren’t there for Celia, and you sure weren’t there for me. You think when Pop was dying in that bed, he didn’t ask for you?”

Hitch shook his head. “You don’t—”

“And don’t give me this about Sheriff Campbell! You shouldn’t have gotten mixed up with him in the first place. And even then, how was running the right answer? If you stayed, you think I wouldn’t have stood beside you? You think all of us wouldn’t have? Nan may be willing to suddenly forget it all, but I’m not!” He reached for the front of Hitch’s wet shirt.

Behind Griff, Nan started dragging Aurelia out of the way.

Hitch reacted without thinking, his own hand darting out to clench Griff’s wrist. Every muscle in his body hummed. With the last ounce of will left, he held himself in.

He’d never seen Griff like this. Griff was the quiet one—the controlled one. Griff didn’t start fights, and he was more likely to stop a brawl than finish one.

Hitch pulled Griff’s hand free of his shirt and pushed him away. “Back off.”

Griff threw a wide roundhouse that crashed into the side of Hitch’s jaw.

Hitch staggered back. Blood thundered through his head, and his vision went black and then red. Even before he could make sense of what had just happened, he came up swinging. He clipped Griff’s chin, but his brother had dived after him and was already raining blows. A punch caught Hitch in the cheek, then Griff started slamming Hitch’s ribs and stomach.

Hitch scrambled upright. He got his feet under him and pretended the world wasn’t tilting crazily. He closed with Griff and closed hard.

He had maybe an inch on his brother, but not much, if any, poundage. And Griff was right. This wasn’t like when they were kids. Back then, Hitch could beat the tar out of Griff and they both knew it. Now Griff was big and strong and full-on mad enough to give Hitch a run for his money and then some.

Hitch hit hard and low. His fist connected beneath Griff’s sternum, and Griff doubled over with a whuff.

Hitch stepped back and saw them all, frozen as if in a photograph. Himself, bleeding and dizzy. Byron and the Berringers, moving in to stop the fight. Nan with her arm still around Aurelia, shouting at them both. Walter staring on, wide-eyed. Jael, the lines between her eyebrows furrowing deeper than ever.

And Griff. His brother rose slowly, blue eyes coming up to glare right back at him. Griff wasn’t done with this fight. He wouldn’t be done until one or both of them were too woozy to climb up out of the mud. He was that mad.

That hurt.

Hitch had hurt him that bad. That’s what this was really all about.

Something inside of him shuddered. Of course it couldn’t be fixed in a few days. The kind of hurt that stuck around for nine years didn’t go away just because the person who’d caused it wanted it to. Durn his ignorant, idiotic hide.

He pulled his punch in mid-swing and backed up, hands in front of him. “Wait—”

Griff hit him anyway, another ear-ringing blow right across his jaw.

“Hold up there, son!” Matthew said. He and Byron caught Griff’s arms.

J.W., looking a little uncomfortable, stopped at Hitch’s side.

Hitch righted himself, one hand on the thundering ache in his molars.

He blinked several times and found his brother’s gaze. “Listen to me. What happened was never meant to be about you. I never once thought it would hurt you like it did. And I’m sorry.”

Griff stopped straining against Matthew and Byron. The fury in his face flickered, for a bare second.

Then he shook his head. “You’re sorry. Why shouldn’t you be? You’ve got Campbell stuck on your tail for the rest of his life. I hear you practically lost your machine to that charlatan Livingstone. You got nobody left to call family in all this world. And you brought pirates right in on your hometown. You are sorry, Hitch. You’re a sorry excuse for a man. And God knows why I ever looked up to you.”

Matthew shook Griff’s arm. “C’mon, son, you don’t want to be lying awake tonight regretting all this stuff you’re saying. Your brother’s telling you he’s sorry. Take his hand and put this all in back of you.”

Griff drew in a breath so deep his shoulders lifted a full two inches. Then he dropped his gaze away from Hitch’s and shook his head again. He pulled free of Matthew and Byron, picked his hat out of the mud, and limped across the yard to where his Chevrolet was parked.

And that, right there, was the end of Hitch’s luck. He watched Griff leave, and, inside his chest, something broke open.

A hand slid around his waist.

Slowly, he looked to find Jael beside him.

Her face was carefully passive. She slipped her shoulders under his arm. “Come.”

He tongued the blood from the corner of his mouth and looked up at the tableau he’d help create.

They all stood, frozen. They stared, not at Griff, but at Hitch. The eyes were wide and shocked and—almost sympathetic. Why? Because they thought Griff had been wrong in throwing that first punch at him? Or because they knew Hitch had just lost his last reason for staying?