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jackson

F ucking phone. I dragged my pillow over my face as my phone rang a second time. Jesus fucking Christ. It was two in the fucking morning. No one should fucking need me.

If it went off a third time, I’d answer.

I regretted that thought as my phone did just that. Grabbing it and not recognizing the number, I answered.

“The fuck do you want?” I snapped, not bothering to hold my temper.

“ Sorry for the late call, Jackson. I wouldn’t call if it wasn’t important. ”

“Keating?” I sat up, groaning as I did. Marcus Keating was the town’s sheriff—had been since before I was born. The man was old, but what need did we really have for a sheriff in our town? Nothing ever fucking happened. “What can I do for you?”

“ I got Dakota McNamara sitting here—”

“What the fuck did he do now?” I demanded.

“ Picked him up on a drunken disorderly. ” Jesus fuck. I ran a hand over my face. “ Figured I’d give you a call as a courtesy first, considering your history. I thought you might want to pick him up instead of having him spend the night in a cell to sober up. ”

Fucking hell. I just wanted to go back to sleep. Mickey’s words came back to me. One fucking moment of kindness. Tolerance was more like it. I could do that. Sort of.

“All right.” I sighed. “Give him some fucking water and I’ll come pick him up. Any chance we can let this time slide? You can arrest his ass and throw away the key if something happens again.”

Keating and I had a long history, which I was hoping would work in my favor. Small-town life lent a hand to that sort of thing.

“ One time, ” he agreed. “ But I better never catch him on the road drunk, got it? Or I’m coming after your ass too, Jackson. A drunken disorderly is one thing, but he had his fucking keys on him, so I know he drove his ass out here. And he didn’t drink that much at Lenny’s before it closed. I’m no idiot. ”

“No, I know,” I said. “I appreciate it, Keating. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“ See you soon, Jackson. ” The call went dead, and I flipped back on my pillows with another frustrated sound.

West was so damn drunk I wasn’t even sure he knew what the hell was going on. It wasn’t a good look on him. But he didn’t want my fucking help, which was fine by me. I watched him sway with every step as he walked toward my house. Yeah, I’d taken him home with me.

“Why the fuck are we here?” he demanded, damn near falling over as he looked up at my house.

“Because I don’t need you dying in my fucking stables,” I said. “Someone needs to make sure you make it through the night. Should’ve taken your dumbass to the fucking hospital.”

“No!” West yelled, staggering as he whirled on me. Anger and something else—something desperate—filled his expression. “No hospitals!”

“Jesus Christ,” I muttered. I waited impatiently for him to get up the stairs. The whole thing took way too long as he almost slipped down them twice. “Fine. No fucking hospitals. I’ll keep the coroner on speed dial for when you kill yourself.”

“You don’t know what you’re fucking talking about.”

“Yeah, sure I don’t,” I agreed but didn’t know what the hell he was talking about. I unlocked the door and flipped lights on as I went inside. The last thing I needed was for him to kill himself by running into a table he couldn’t fucking see.

“You don’t know a fucking thing about me.” He slammed the door, and I resisted the urge to hit him.

“Yeah, I sure as fuck don’t,” I agreed. That much I knew. “What the fuck happened to you?”

It was rhetorical. I didn’t want to know—not that he would tell me.

“Shut the fuck up,” he muttered, words slurring together. He collapsed on my couch, boots and all, and slung an arm over his head. “It ain’t like you don’t know. Golden boy Jackson fucking Myles has his shit together. Yippee-ki-ay and all the shit. I don’t need your fucking pity just because you know shit about me.”

“I don’t know what the hell you think I know,” I snapped. “But I can fucking guarantee I don’t.”

“Bullshit,” West shot back, and I frowned. “You Myles never could keep shit from each other. Whole goddamn family in everyone’s fucking business and always telling each other everything.”

He was talking about my mom’s need to gossip—that hadn’t been a new development when she moved. She’d always been that way. But what was he saying that she knew?

I pressed my lips together and waited to see if he’d say more but all I got was a quiet snore as he passed the fuck out on me.