Page 2 of Between Brothers

“You might be beautiful, but, bitch, at the end of the day, you’re as simple as they come, aren’t ya?” I cackled.

I spat at the floor beside her just as a tattooed arm hooked my shoulder and hefted me away from her. I could tell by the vibrant blue-and-green ink that sprawled up his arm, that it was my brother, Paxton.

I let him wrangle me out the back door.

“Can’t take you nowhere. Look at ya.” He laughed, as he held me in something between a huddle and a bear hug for a moment.

“Let go of me, I’m fine. I didn’t even fucking hit her.” I laughed, shoving at him.

He twisted his neck and stared back toward the building.

“Didn’t hit her? There’s blood all over the goddamn hallway.” He grinned, as he hesitantly let me get free.

“I didn’t hit her. She hopped on me like a mad grasshopper and I helped her off, that’s all.” I sniffed and shrugged.

Paxton cleared his throat, and I followed his gaze to the building. Our father’s sturdy frame stood glaring back at us from the entryway. His worn vest was pinned beneath his massive, folded arms, but there was no mistaking the president’s patch on his chest.

His attempts to appear displeased were mostly for the Sweetheart's benefit and we all three knew it.

“I didn’t fucking do anything,” I playfully insisted, holding my hands out in front of me while Paxton sniffed and fought a smile. Dad’s long, slow snort of disbelief made me outright laugh. “Oh, my God. I didn’t. That little dumbass jumped on me like she lost what little mind she had to begin with, okay?”

Dad’s brow hitched and he wet his lips like he was about to say something profound. I might have let him, if I hadn’t saw Rigs attending her bloodied nose behind him.

I couldn’t help but double down.

“I can’t help you, ol’ man. You picked these tools, not me.”

He gave a half-smile and shook his head, shutting the door behind him as he ventured back inside.

“She really gets to you, huh?” Pax asked, his voice sobering a little.

The smile froze and soured on my face as I turned and slowly studied him for seriousness, “Not a single swamp donkey or piece of ass in that motherfucker exists in my world.”

“Don’t talk about the help like that.” Pax cackled, while trying his hardest to appear scandalized by my assessment of their sweethearts.

“‘Help!’” I damn near spat the word at him. “Do not attempt to label them as staff. I don’t know how many times I have to tell you assholes, Nala glazing the bar doesn’t count as waxing. I swear to fuck, someone should buy stock in Lysol around here.”

I shivered wholeheartedly and let the ‘yuck’ sound strangle in my throat.

His jaw dropped and his eyes lit up with amusement as he squeezed me and laughed as he rumbled, “I fucking love you.”

“I love you, too, even if you are a patched asshat like the rest of them,” I lovingly called after him just before he disappeared inside.

I sighed as the world around me grew peaceful for a moment. The breeze tickled my arms, making me aware that summer was almost over. I crossed my arms and let my head tip back, soaking up every minute of the quiet that I possibly could.

I really didn’t know how my mother had done it for so many years.

She wasn’t born into this world. Hell, she was never meant to stumble down this path.

It’s funny how life adds little plot twists, I supposed.

My mother came to Southern Illinois to get a veterinarian degree. She was supposed to see snow accumulate for the first time, and attend classes. Her plan was to return to her small Texas town with all of her accomplishments and a fresh degree. Instead, she met my dad and had Paxton her Junior year.

I missed her so much, especially on nights like this. It was our thing, sitting outside on the porch in the evenings and chattering away. She was my rock.

The door to the tavern swung open with a nasty creak, letting the obnoxious music drift out and stir my thoughts back to the moment just as Roach spotted me and her eyes lit up.

She was a Sweetheart, but I didn’t hold it against her. She was the mildest of them, as best I could tell.