I want more time with her, even if it means we aren’t fucking. Aubrey is quickly working her way under my skin.
“So she must be a tiger in bed if you’re still hitting that.” Jax tosses the crude words at me with almost a leer.
“Shut the fuck up about her,” I say.
“You like her.” It’s thrown out as almost an accusation. Jax’s eyes narrow. “She’s not just a piece of ass for you, is she.”
“I’m not having this conversation.” I turn away from him and drink my beer, trying to push down the irritation swelling in my chest. Fucking Jax and his fucking attitude. He’s the one who encouraged me to get out and go live a little instead of working so much. Now he’s giving me flack about it? No.
“No, of course you’re not having this conversation with us,” he counters in a harsh tone. “And why am I surprised about this? You’re a fucking uptight as a virgin lately, and as closed off as one too.”
“Where is all this coming from?” I ask him, turning to give him the full weight of my stare. “What’s your problem? Is hooking up with one or two different women a day not keeping you busy enough anymore?”
“At least I’m still me. You’re just…” Jax waves a dismissive hand at me. “You’ve changed. And not even since she came to town. You’ve been a fucking dick to everyone lately. Look at how you talk to Asher. He’s too nice to tell you, but you need to chill your shit out with him.”
I spin my head to glare at my youngest brother, who’s brow is furrowed, and he’s shooting deathly daggers from his eyes at Jax. “Don’t drag me into your fucking argument,” he says. “I already said my piece about all of this shit.”
“And yet I get the feeling you haven’t said it all, since you and Jax seem to be talking about me behind my back.” Anger is a quiet pulse in my lower belly. I can feel the heavy frown line between my eyebrows. What the fuck is this all about?
Today is supposed to be a chill-out afternoon, unwinding before the craziness of Thursday nights, our weekly ritual. Drink some beer, what whatever the fuck is on TV, bust each other’s balls, and so on.
This feels like more than just busting my balls. This feels like I’m being ganged up on.
Asher sighs and puts his beer on the side table. “Look, we’re just….You’re not acting like yourself.”
“Maybe I’m too fucking tired from running the bar to act like myself.” The words fly out before I can stop them.
Jax stills. “Complain much, tough guy? No one is asking you to carry the weight on your shoulders. But you act like we’re still little kids and you have to herd us into place. News flash, Smith—we don’t need you to be our parent anymore. Maybe we can, oh, I don’t know…try to be brothers or whatever.”
The pulse is throbbing at the base of my throat, and I struggle with my words. “Maybe if you guys, oh, I don’t know…pulled your own weight with managing the bar, I wouldn’t have to parent you.”
“Fuck you,” Jax says, standing and glaring down at me. The change in his attitude hits me hard. He’s not normally one to get this angry. He’s the jokester, the charmer, the guy to smooth things over. But apparently not today. No, Jax is letting me feel the brunt of his anger. “We’re trying to do our best if you’d chill the fuck out a little. And maybe if you weren’t distracted by Aubrey, you’d see how we’re keeping the bar running just as well as you are.”
Asher sighs and holds up his hands. “Shit is getting too out of control right now. Let’s all relax and take a moment before things explode. Our Beckett tempers are raging.”
Jax sits back down and drinks his beer with a purposeful casualness that irritates me. Fucking dick. It’s nice of him to throw out a bunch of shitty opinions then not have to answer for them.
Aubrey isn’t a distraction. At least, not in a bad way. Spending time with her has become the bright spot of my day. She reminds me what it feels like it have a real life outside of parenting my brothers and running the bar. She reminds me what it feels like to be a man—not just hooking up, but more.
With her, I feel like all my troubles slip away. Aren’t as important. I get an absurd amount of joy just watching her be happy.
Silent tension bubbles between the three of us for several minutes. The soccer game is still raging on in the background, the crowd cheering on the big-screen TV. We’re all staring blindly at the game but not really giving a fuck. Nursing our drinks and our injured feelings.
Jax exhales hard and smooths a hand over his jaw. “Okay, this is fucking dumb. I don’t want to argue right now, especially when we have bigger shit to worry about.”
“Like what?” Asher asks.
“Like the fact that the town is ganging up on us,” he says.
I ask, “What do you mean?”