The taste of forbidden

6. Rage.

6. Rage.

Lia.

If I’m being honest, the cabin is the worst place I’ve ever lived in my life.

The mattress on the floor isn’t the best option for sleeping, barely any water comes out of the shower, and the kitchen has only one burner. I tried to order groceries that same afternoon, but nothing got delivered. I thought the problem was that this town simply doesn’t do home deliveries—after all, it’s tiny and seems stuck in time. So, the next morning, very early, I went to downtown Silver Ridge to buy groceries and whatever else I needed.

I couldn’t.

They didn’t sell me anything.

They wouldn’t sell me anything.

A part of me wants to believe he’s not behind this. He can’t be that f*****g miserable, right? But I remember his last words that day in the office and I know Becket Callahan is capable of anything to get me off his land… even leaving me without food.

I’m not sure how I look right now, but when I pull up roughly at the ranch, several workers step aside as I walk by with rage roaring through my veins, straight toward my asshole brother-in-law.

“Where’s Becket?” I yell at Miguel, the only man who doesn’t move away from me like I’m the Grim Reaper herself.

“Good morning, miss,” he says, tipping his hat with a polite gesture. “The boss is in the stables.”

“Stables?” I ask.

And where the hell are the stables?

Miguel seems to understand I don’t have the slightest clue about this property because he points to a specific place. I look where he indicates—a concrete and wood structure. Of course, I go straight there.

At another point in my life, I’d stop to admire the horses and how well-organized the place is, but I can’t. Right now I can only think about him and how badly my hands want to strangle him.

Is he even real?

How can a man be so insufferable in this life?

“BECKET!” I poke my head into an empty stall, then another one—only a horse greets me, but that’s not the animal I’m looking for. “BECKET!”

“She speaks,” the asshole finally emerges from a stall, locking it to secure the horse inside.

Son of a...

I stare at him, my hands clenched into fists.

“Ah,” he nods, wiping his hands on a cloth draped over his shoulder, “the mice ate your tongue again?”

This...

Son...

Of a...

“b***h!” I yell at him, which makes his eyes go wide.

“I’m no whore.”

“You’re an asshole, a f*****g rat, a miserable son of a—”

“Hey!” He raises his hand, cutting me off, his lips twisting slightly. “Not that I care, but to what do I owe the honor of your words?”

“You know damn well what you did, Becket Callahan.”

“Do I?” He takes a step closer.

“You left me without food,” I say through gritted teeth.

“I asked Hank to bring you breakfast this morning, you rejected it.”

“I’m not talking about that.” Why can’t I stop growling at him? I’ve growled more at him than I ever have in my life.

“Be clear, Lia, because I don’t have a f*****g clue what you’re talking about.”

“No one sold me anything at any store!” I point my finger at him. “You somehow turned the whole town against me and no one will sell me anything, not even a damn coffee!”

“I didn’t—” he starts to deny.

“Don’t you f*****g deny it!” I jab my finger at him harder.

“Christ, back off!”

I don’t back off, I just press my finger harder toward his chest. I don’t touch him, but I very well could with all the fury I’m expelling.

“Admit it!”

He swats my hand away, stepping back.

“I’m not admitting s**t, I have no f*****g idea what you’re talking about!”

A bitter laugh escapes me.

“Oh, please. You’re the only one who hates me. You’re the only asshole who would do something this vile.”

His body tenses at my words.

“Look, you’re really starting to—”

“I hate you!” And I push him with both hands on his chest.

Everything happens in slow motion.

Becket stumbles backward, his feet catching on hay until his calves slam against the troughs and, like a trampoline, he flips and crashes to the ground.

Water from the trough soaks him, mostly his face and chest.

I hate him, I hate him so much that… I don’t hate him.

“You…”

“I hate you,” I say again, but my voice cracks, and my heart tightens painfully.

“Lia.” He stands, watching me carefully, like he knows something’s about to burst.

And something is about to burst—I feel it in my skin, in my bones, in the erratic beat of my heart.

“I hate you,” my voice trembles more and more.

His shoulders drop, and he looks at me almost disarmed, his eyes filling with this strange sweetness I can’t stand—especially not from him.

Never from him.

“I hate you,” I growl through my teeth and ball my hands into fists when he takes a soggy step toward me.

“Lia…”

“I hate you,” I whisper, locking eyes with him.

“No, you don’t.”

“I f*****g loathe you.” I lift my chin to face him when he stops just a step away. “I can’t believe you’re Lucas’s brother, you’re the worst person I’ve ever met in my life and…”

“What?” he whispers back, not looking away.

“And I can clearly understand why Lucas walked away from you.”

He nods, his jaw clenched tight and the small scar on his lip deepens, making him look hard… yet strangely vulnerable at the same time.

I blink, my chest rising and falling with difficulty.

The air is so tense, so thick with something I can’t quite name—I just know every breath, every whisper, every inch between us is building something about to explode.

“Anything else to say?” he asks.

“I don’t want to see you again in my f*****g life.”

“You can leave whenever you want.” He leans in close—so close I have to tilt my head back to keep eye contact, but my feet stay rooted in place, refusing to give in.

“That’s what you want, isn’t it? To keep everything, even what belongs to Lucas, because all you give a s**t about is this f*****g ranch. Is that why he left?” My voice is as low as his, he can hear me only because of how close we are. “Did you steal from Lucas what was rightfully his from the start?”

He swallows hard, like my words hit a wound that’s never stopped bleeding.

“Yes.” He nods slowly. “I didn’t want my brother around, I kicked him off this ranch the moment he turned eighteen, and I was f*****g happy when he died. I want everything for myself, and you’re just a little pebble in my shoe I’m dying to get rid of.”

“Son of a bitch.” I start to tremble.

“What are you gonna do about it, Lia Callahan?”

I slap my palm against his cheek.

He lets out a laugh, one he bites back by clenching his lower lip. And he stays there, head turned, showing me the profile I just slapped.

I swallow and tremble more, but not out of fear. No, this isn’t fear. I’m shaking from everything I’ve held inside, from all the rage I’ve built up month after month these past two years.

“That’s all you’ve got?”

Is he provoking me?

“What are you doing?” I ask, more air than voice.

“Me?” He looks at me again. “What are you doing?”

“I’m not…”

“Here I am. The enemy, right? Because that’s what you made me out to be in your head—the enemy.”

Indignation slams into me.

Hard.

“Me?” I hit him in the chest again and he nods almost pleased with my reaction. “You’re the one who made me the enemy the second you saw me!” I shove him harder. “You’re the asshole who started this war between us.” I hit him again, hard enough to make him stumble back. “You’re the i***t who’s denying me the last chance I have to say goodbye to him in peace! You—f**k—you’re the worst part of my life right now! You and only you! Goddamn you!”

The first tear falls. Then the rest follow.

And we stare at each other, my chest overflowing with a thousand feelings I never dared to express—not like this. Not shouting, not hitting, not with this f*****g rage I carry because life is so unfair.

He nods.

“What else?”

What else?!

What the hell does he want from me?

What the f**k is he looking for?

I wipe my face with a trembling hand.

And I start to cry, hard.

I cry for everything—for this place, for the pain I feel every time I picture Lucas in every corner of this ranch, for knowing I’ll never truly see him here again. I cry for how hard this is, because I want to say goodbye, but at the same time I don’t. Because saying goodbye to him is also saying goodbye to the part of me that died that day… that part of us I’ll never get back, that I never even got to visualize, that I never even got to hold in my arms.

I bury my face in my hands, letting everything go. I cry with loud sobs that make my whole being tremble, from the inside out, always from the inside out, because my pain is internal, it comes from within, from those parts of me that will never be mine again, from that part of me that didn’t even get the chance to be mine. I cry for everything I lost.

I feel a strong arm wrap around my shoulders, pulling me toward a warm chest that’s been waiting for me. And at first, I resist. At first, I fight him, and I push back and struggle and try...

"It's okay," his lips brush against my temple in a soft caress, "let it go."

"I can't," I whisper, clutching his shirt in my fists, hitting him weakly one more time.

"Why?"

I shake my head, words stuck in my throat.

No one understands, no one ever will, because that small part of me is only mine, only mine to hurt, only mine to lose, only mine to love... and I’ve never wanted to share it with anyone.

"Lucas would be hating you so much right now," I sob, pressing my forehead to his chest.

"I know," he says tensely.

"Then why?"

Why did you start this war?

"I can't," he replies, throwing my own words back at me.

I tilt my head back, meeting his eyes. I try to find something there, in his blue gaze. And I search and search in the darkness of his eyes, but I’m looking for something I don’t even know yet, something I can’t name.

Then I take a deep breath, and I’m surprised I can even do it.

I close my eyes and inhale again, deeply, so deeply that I feel the clean air reach inside me, almost washing away the anger I didn’t even know I carried.

And it’s the first time in longer than I can remember that I can breathe without so much pain.

I feel his eyes scanning my face, reading me, especially when a small smile creeps onto the corner of my mouth.

I can breathe.

"How did you do that?" I whisper.

"What?" he asks, playing dumb. "Piss you off to the point of boiling?"

"No, you..." I look at him, confused.

He did this on purpose. He’s been provoking me since I walked into the stable.

"You're so confusing," I admit.

Suddenly, we both seem to realize the position we’re in and pull apart like we’ve been burned. I take one step back as he takes two. He runs a hand over the back of his neck awkwardly, and I wipe my tears away, never taking my eyes off him.

"The supermarket..."

Becket clenches his teeth in irritation.

"I had nothing to do with that."

"I don't believe you."

"I'm not some immature brat playing childish games with you, Lia."

I narrow my eyes at him and lift my chin.

I don’t believe him.

Reading the disbelief on my face, he continues, "There are a lot of workers who don’t trust you or your intentions. It must’ve been them, at least one of them."

"They’re your workers," I remind him pointedly.

"Yeah, not my puppets!"

"Well, talk to them," I warn him, "or..."

He huffs, arms crossed over his chest in a mocking stance.

"Or what?"

"Or you'll see."

I give him one last look before turning to walk away, but then I hear him mutter under his breath, "Insolent little brat..."

"What did you say?" I turn back to him.

"I said you're an insolent little brat," he raises his voice. "You're on my land, in my ranch, in my cabin, and you still threaten me?"

"It’s my land too, remember?"

His eyes darken with rage, but I don’t stick around to argue with him anymore. It’s too many emotions for one day, so I simply turn around, walk away, and leave him with those little words echoing in his head—words I know he despises.