With Aurora leaning against his arm on their side of the booth Beckett picked up a red crayon and tried not to kill Paul with it.
Beckett ended up walking home a block behind them, just to make sure Paul took Aurora home for bed and not to a strip club or bakery.
That night, he hadn’t even tried going to bed. Sleep was for happy people in committed relationships. He was alone and he’d done it to himself.
Beckett had sat on the couch letting the tick of the grandfather clock mark the passing of the night into dawn. How had he so royally fucked it all up? His harsh words to Gianna kept coming back to him, chipping away pieces of his heart. She wasn’t the one who owed the apology. It was him. And he was pretty sure there weren’t enough ‘I’m sorries’ in the world to make up for the things he’d said.
He had literally shoved Gianna into the arms of another man. A man who — despite the town’s stellar opinion of him — had no business raising children or being married to Gianna.
He, Beckett James Pierce, was the biggest fucking idiot on the planet.
Ellery had taken one look at him that morning when he stumbled into the office in a fog and rescheduled all his appointments for the week. He’d putzed around doing absolutely nothing except for avoiding calls from his family until five.
And now he was having scotch for dinner.
He was sitting on the couch in sweatpants staring at the TV he’d neglected to turn on and debating a third scotch when Carter and Jax walked in.
“Shit.” Carter muttered. “He’s growing a damn beard.”
“Put down the booze and go find some shoes,” Jax ordered.
“You put the booze down and go find shoes,” Beckett snarled.
Carter threw something shiny at him. “Let’s go, asshole.”
Beckett stared down at his lap and picked up the key ring. He recognized it without having seen it for a few years. “You want me to kick your ass again?” he sneered. If there was anyone he wanted to punch in the face until he heard the satisfying crunch of cartilage, it was himself … and maybe Paul.
Carter remained silent while Jax stomped upstairs.
“Hey! Don’t touch my stuff,” Beckett yelled after him.
Jax returned and threw sneakers at him.
“Put ’em on or we make you put ’em on,” Carter said, arms crossed.
32
The glove plowed into his face, and this time Beckett tasted blood.
“It’s no fun if he doesn’t fight back,” Jax complained to Carter.
Carter hung over the ropes in the corner. “Beckett, put up your gloves and punch your brother in the fucking face.”
“Maybe I want to punch your fucking face,” Beckett said, his tone surly.
“I’m getting married in six days. Summer said if I came home with a broken nose in time for wedding pictures she’d shave my beard.”
“All the more reason for you to get in the ring.”
“Ah, there’s a sad little joke out of the sad little clown,” Jax said, jabbing him in the ribs. His younger brother, stripped to the waist, ducked and weaved, trying to draw an attack.
“You look like you’re on a damn pogo stick,” Beckett carped.
“A damn pogo stick that you can’t hit,” Jax retorted.
“If I make him bleed, can I go home?” Beckett asked Carter.
“We’ll see.”
Beckett growled in frustration. “I don’t have fucking issues to work out by pounding on my brother.”
Jax shuffled around the ring throwing shadow punches. “This is boring!” he whined. “Carter, this was a stupid idea. He probably doesn’t even miss Gia. He’s probably happy she’s back with Pau —”
Beckett’s right cross caught him off guard enough to knock him back a few steps.
“Oh, so that’s the trigger,” Jax said, his grin cocky now. “Don’t you think it’s weird how the whole town just loves this guy?”
He blocked Beckett’s next shot and gave him a one-two combination to the ribs.
“I mean, Mom even said he’s like this musical genius.” Jax wasn’t lucky enough to block Beckett’s jab. But he countered with a solid shot to the low gut.
“If you punch me in the balls I swear to God I’ll —” Beckett’s threat vanished in the heat of the exchange. Punches were thrown fast and hard until sweat and blood began to cloud his vision.
Distantly he heard the ringing of the bell and then realized it was Carter in the corner. “Hey, take a break before someone gets brain damage.” He tossed Beckett a towel and Jax a water.
“Can we be done now?” Beckett grumbled, testing out the swelling flesh under his left eye.
“That depends,” Carter said conversationally. “Do you feel better?”
“No, I don’t fucking feel better. This was your thing, not mine. I’m not fighting some inner demons. Taking swings at someone isn’t going to make me feel better.”
“I was hoping you’d say that,” Carter said, slipping on gloves. “I’m tapping in, Jax.”
“Summer’s gonna kiiiiill you,” Jax sang as he hobbled out of the ring.
“Break my nose and my wife-to-be will murder you. Got it?” Carter said to Beckett.
Beckett answered with a jab to the chin.