It was still swollen, Rhett couldn’t believe it, but it did seem less painful.
“Don’t play games, how could you…”
Rhett started talking, checking his wrist, and halfway through, he stopped-his wrist moved freely, no pain at all!
Seeing he was okay, Hannah murmured, “Get some ice on that, twenty minutes should bring down the swelling.”
Even with Hannah’s assist, Rhett still gave her a dirty look. “Just because you helped this time don’t mean we’re cool.”
Hannah walked off, waving her hand like she didn’t care. “Wouldn’t want you missing the race and then blame me for it.”
Rhett’s face changed. He swore, holding his wrist. “Quit acting!”
Feeling bad for her brother, Elsa turned to Remington, upset. “You didn’t have his back, always siding with Miss Moore, what’s up with that?”
With the fuss dying down, Bryson lost interest; he watched Hannah head upstairs, then followed suit, Leaving.
As he passed Remington, a low voice reached Bryson’s ear. “Mr. Mitchell, you used to dislike Miss Moore, yet now you’re her knight in shining armor.”
Bryson halted, a smirk dancing in his dark eyes as he whispered to Remington, audible only to them.
“Does it bug you that I’m backing her up?”
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Remington locked eyes with Bryson, then burst into laughter. “I am just curious.”
“Really now?”
Bryson shot Remington a meaningful smile. “I am actually starting to like Miss Moore.”
Seeing Remington’s face darken, Bryson’s spirits lifted.
He gave Remington’s shoulder a friendly pat. “That is a great chance to bond. I want to get to know her better, maybe something more.”
Remington tensed up but his voice stayed steady. “You might be out of luck; she has a fiance.”
Bryson shot back with a smirk. “Well, you never know. Feelings can be unpredictable.”
Bryson’s genial smile melted away as he walked past Remington, whose eyes burned with cold scrutiny as Bryson climbed the stairs.
As Remington turned, a tug on his coat failed to disrupt his indifferent disposition as he regarded the individual with a detached gaze.
The injustice against Elsa’s brother festered in her soul, her consternation boiling over into words that resounded with urgency.
“We cannot ignore my brother’s humiliation.”
Remington’s even-keeled countenance remained unruffled as he retorted to Elsa’s protestations, “The fault lies with your brother. Had he not provoked Peterson, the entire affair could have been avoided.”