Jax hops off the chair and moves to my kitchen, whipping open the fridge door. I hear another beer crack open. “So, I was driving yesterday and got pulled over by the police.”
I roll my eyes, and a little of the tension from earlier leaks from my shoulders. Jax getting pulled over for speeding is not an unusual occurrence. About as unusual as the sun rising in the east. That fucker loves the gas pedal a little too much. “Is this the part where we’re supposed to be shocked? You being pulled over for speeding isn’t some kind of town conspiracy.”
Asher laughs. “Seriously.”
“Very fucking funny,” he says, moving back to the living room. He swigs his drink and exhales. “I wasn’t even speeding when they pulled me over. The cop claimed I did a rolling stop when turning right on red. Total bullshit claim. He gave me a ticket and then told me that our bar is bad news and he has a few ‘friends’ working on driving us out of business. The cocksucker didn’t even try to be smooth about it.”
I sigh and rake my free hand through my hair. “The guy was probably just talking shit,” I say, knowing somehow that it’s not the case. Our bad rep is getting worse every day and I’ve been aware of the rumors and whispers around town for awhile now.
But this takes things to an entirely new level.
“I guess they’re stepping up their game,” Asher comments.
A couple of months ago, we had two police offers saunter into Outlaws, making a big show of looking around. They eyed all our customers to the point of making them nervous; several even left. It was easy to see what they were doing—trying to psych us out.
Okay, yeah, we’d had a few fights erupting before that, but it wasn’t anything unusual for our bar.
“I’m not letting them bully us,” I vow. “Fuck them. We’ll figure out what to do.”
“They can’t actually close us down, can they?” Jax asks.
“No,” I say, though truthfully, I don’t know. I never told my brother about the guy who came to our bar a couple of weeks ago offering to buy it from us. He’d lowballed so badly that I’d easily laughed him off.
But given the pattern emerging here, the town is working against us. It’s highly possible that guy was setting the stage for the police to shake us down, scare us enough to sell the property to him. And then what would happen? My dad’s dream would disappear and a big part of him along with it.
Nothing left to show the world he made a mark. Nothing left to remember him by.
I swear, sometimes in the bar, especially alone before it gets busy, I can actually feel the old man’s presence in there. I can’t lose that.
The thought makes me depressed and angry at the same time. We were robbed of our father. No fucking way is anyone gonna rob him of his one legacy. Outlaws might be a shithole, but it’s our shithole, and we’re fucking keeping it.
I don’t have the answers. I need time to think. A run after my brothers leave might help clear my mind, open me up to new possibilities and options before I head into work tonight. I’m tempted to ask them to go now, my body itching to feel the burn of muscles, the release of all my stress and escape into the moment.
I need space and time to think about everything my brothers unloaded on me just now.
It’s clear my brothers aren’t too happy about me seeing Aubrey…or whatever the hell it is between us. It sure as fuck isn’t just sex. There’s something deeper emerging. Something that makes me feel strange, not my usual self.
That makes me crave her in my presence all the time.
I can’t label it right now. I’m not even sure I want to. I just want to enjoy it and know her better. See what else makes her tick.
Maybe Aubrey is a distraction, after all. But if she is, she’s the best kind.
My feet pound hard on the pavement as I run through the woods. Rhythmic slapping, my lungs burning, my muscles flexing, nothing on my mind except getting through this next mile.
I needed this escape, needed to clear my fucking mind. I can’t keep carrying the weight of everything on my shoulders—my brothers are right about that. But can I depend on them to help me?
Jax is a loose cannon who’s more into partying and fucking
There’s a gap in the trees, and the late afternoon sun washes me in its warmth. Sweat trickles down my bare back, into the waistband of my shorts. I’ve run this path every day since I was a young teen.
Rock Ridge is my home. My haven and my hell at the same time. The place where I have the best memories of my brothers and I spending time with my dad. The place where I felt the worst grief after he died. Where I feel like I’m living here but don’t quite belong. We’re the rebel boys, bad to the bone, insert your own cliché. Wanted in bed, hit on in the bar, but in public? Barely acknowledged.
But not Aubrey.
We went to the park the other day. I showed her my spot. And she held my hand and sat with me as we watched the ducks.