“It’s that damn resort,” the one man said.
Sawyer didn’t recognize the voice right off, although it was familiar. He continued to listen, keeping his eyes on the bar in front of him, waiting for Mack to return with his drink.
“Won’t argue with you there. Look at that poor Ethan. All of a sudden the resort opens and he’s gay.”
All of a sudden? Sawyer’s back teeth ground together. He knew what the topic had been even before his brother’s name had been tossed in, he just didn’t know what had spurred it. Whatever it was, it had pissed Mack off enough that he wasn’t talking to Sawyer.
“It’s depraved, I tell ya. Then that ol’ boy, Beau. He got turned and got himself hitched to Ethan.”
“What about Travis? You know he’s gay, right?”
Sawyer’s temper ignited like a match to a slow-burning fuse, but still he didn’t turn around. When Mack walked up, pushing his drink toward him, he knew he had to say something. He just didn’t know what.
“And now Mack. I heard he was over there at AI, screwin’ some guy.”
“I heard that, too. He met some guy there and got a room.”
“It’s that damn resort, I’m tellin’ ya. It’s turnin’ all these boys gay.”
Sawyer grabbed his glass and downed the whiskey, relishing the burn that hit his chest like an atomic bomb. Slamming the glass back on the bar, he got to his feet and he wasn’t quiet about it. The sound was amplified because the rest of the bar had gone eerily silent. Turning around, Sawyer sighed when his eyes landed on Don and Ken, two old farmers who’d been in Coyote Ridge their entire lives.
“God damn it, Sawyer,” Mack barked from behind him. “You ain’t helpin’. Sit your ass back down.”
Sawyer ignored the bartender, making his way over to the table where the two old men sat. Neither man said anything as Sawyer approached, but Ken’s eyes looked like saucers as he met Sawyer’s gaze.
“I highly suggest the two of you keep your comments to yourself,” Sawyer said, trying to keep his voice low. It wasn’t working, and most of the people in the bar had already started moving closer so they could hear what was going on. “You’re startin’ rumors you can’t back up.”
Don, the mouthier of the two old men, turned his head and looked up at Sawyer. “Son, this conversation was between us. If you don’t like it, don’t listen.”
“I don’t like you talkin’ shit,” Sawyer said, not bothering to try and rein in his anger.
“If it ain’t true, why’re you gettin’ so pissed?” someone called from the back near the pool tables.
“Mind your own damn business,” Sawyer snapped, not looking up to see who had spoken up.
“Or what?” the voice called, sounding as though it was coming closer.
Sawyer did look up then, his eyes meeting Ricky Dillinger’s, the stupid little prick that Beau used to work with. The same one who had stirred up shit with Ethan last year.
Sawyer noticed the guy had bulked up a little. Probably had to because he’d been nothing more than a little pussy who liked to talk shit, but ended up with his ass handed to him anytime he did. Sawyer remembered their last run-in well.
“What the fuck did you just say?” Sawyer questioned, spinning on his heels to locate where the voice had come from.
“You heard me,” Jimmy Reardon replied softly.
“No, I don’t think I did,” Sawyer stated, anger still surging through him as he moved closer.
“Come on, boys,” Mack shouted. “Not in here.”
Sawyer ignored him, his hands balled into fists at his sides. He wasn’t sure he’d ever been as pissed as he was right then. No one . . . Fucking no one talked shit like that when he was around.
He felt his brothers lining up behind him, circling around him as Sawyer stopped just short of the table where Jimmy Reardon and that little pussy-fuck Ricky Dillinger sat.
“Care to repeat it, Reardon?” Sawyer asked, his voice low, his tone deadly. He’d never been one to hang on to hatred, but Sawyer hated Jimmy. The bastard had damn near killed Ethan and now he had the fucking balls to talk shit. Sawyer had been holding back for far too long, he couldn’t contain it any longer.
It wasn’t that Sawyer was looking for a fight, but he damn sure wasn’t the type to sit back and listen to dumb-asses spout stupid bullshit. Maybe he felt guilty for the way he’d been in high school. He hadn’t necessarily been one of the bullies, but he hadn’t done anything to stop it, either. The thought brought back memories of Kennedy and the way everyone had treated her.