Page 9

9

JACK

IT HURTS

S haking my head at my traitorous dog – and sisters – as soon as the gates close behind the Mustang, I turn into my house and slam the door shut.

Fuck my life.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

We were having a nice time. Hell, I was smiling! And not because her pussy felt good, but because she’s kind of funny and sweet. She made it so I could forget my reality for a few hours, like my house could be a quiet sanctuary away from the world and we could just hang out.

I fell asleep with a smile on my face for the first time in, well, since Steph died.

But I should’ve known better. The ghosts in my house never lie down and go quiet.

My life can be broken down into shitty days: the day my dad died, the day Kit was hurt and hospitalized, the day Steph died.

Then yesterday: the day I cowardly forfeited my fight and simply handed back my belt.

All that hard work, the years of pain and sweat and tears my brothers and I put in, all so I could simply pick up my phone, call Bobby, and tell him I wouldn’t be defending my title.

I mean, he knew it was coming. You don’t step into the octagon for the world title without training for it, but for me to finally say the words out loud… Well, that added yesterday to my list of heartbreaking days .

I was disappointed for me. But most of all, I was disappointed in myself. For letting my family down. I just… I’m so tired. I don’t want to do this anymore. I don’t want to be here anymore.

It hurts.

Everything fucking hurts.

Steph’s been here this whole time, in my house, in my peripherals. The curly haired elephant in the room haunts me, and all day long, she stares with disdain as I continue down this destructive road to death.

I don’t mean to disrespect her memory. It’s the very last thing I want to do, but being that guy, the guy everyone hates, is my only coping mechanism in a world of pain.

But for the few hours Bambie… Britt … was in my arms, while her hands roamed my back and her lips tasted mine, for the first time in a long time, my heart didn’t hurt quite as much. And better yet, I didn’t feel that self-loathing that I normally do, the guilt I feel when I’m with a woman… a woman that isn’t Steph.

For the first time since she died, Steph wasn’t here watching. Bambie shielded me. She let me live in the moment, to feel something a little different than the constant pain I’ve felt since the day Steph left, and I got to enjoy a few minutes without the risk of going insane.

Bambie let me relax for a few minutes, and when I fell asleep with her in my arms, I smiled.

A smile is worth a million dollars to a guy like me these days.

But when I woke and she wasn’t in my bed, my sanctuary was shattered. When I found her in the kitchen with my dog, the dog who never talks to any of my girls, ever , I was spooked.

What kind of voodoo does Bambie wield? How does she do that to me? To Annie? How does she have us relaxing?

Sighing at the expected knock at my front door, I roll my eyes and walk away. I know who it is, and I know I don’t wanna talk to them.

Walking back toward my bedroom, I sit on the edge of my bed, take out a clear baggie of already rolled joints, and light up.

I don’t give a damn anymore. I just want to sleep – for the rest of my life.

Just like I knew who was at my door, I also knew they’d let themselves in anyway. Stomping feet move up my staircase, not just one set, but too-fucking-many.

Muffled grumbles precede the guys, then letting out a satisfying puff of smoke, I sit back and watch my angry brothers let themselves into my room with baby monitors in their hands .

For such big badass fighters, they sure look like a bunch of pussies in their skivvies and old man slippers.

“Fuck, Jack.” Stepping forward, Bobby snatches my smoke away and crushes it in his palm. “That shit’s poison! What the fuck is the matter with you? And you made me burn my hand.”

I shrug. “Wouldn’t burn your hand if you weren’t so stupid. Even cavemen knew ‘fire, burn.’”

“You’re a stupid ass,” Jon snaps. “Why do you keep doing this?”

“Doing what?”

“That chick you just humiliated,” Aiden bites out. “That’s Smalls’ school teacher.”

Fucccckkkk

“She’s actually really cool, and you treated her like trash.”

“How do you even know her? My folks didn’t know my teachers. Kit didn’t know all my teachers.”

“Fuck she didn’t,” Bobby snaps. “She knew everything. She knew it all . She had your back when you were too busy with your head up your ass to notice, just like now!”

He hits the nail on the head and drills down to who I am at the core.

I became this guy after my dad died, too. I was horrible to my sister, and it took a lot of her heart and soul – and my new brothers training the stupid out of me – to get me back on track.

I wish this time was similar. I wish training and Kit’s love would be enough for me to get better, but it’s not. I can’t see the light. I’m stuck at the dead end of a long and lonely black tunnel.

It’s so dark in here, I don’t even know which way to turn to look for the light again.

“Smalls got in a fight this week,” Aiden continues. “Miss T was looking out for Bean. She stood up for our girls. She has your nieces’ backs more than you do.”

“Why would she do that?”

“Why not?” Jon asks incredulously. “Not everyone’s an asshole, Jack! Maybe she’s actually a cool person, but I guarantee your stupid ass just put our girls on her shit list.”

Fuckkkk.

“I didn’t even know she was a school teacher.” Sighing, I press the heels of my hands against my eyes. “I didn’t know. She doesn’t look anything like Mrs. Grober.”

“No shit!” Aiden laughs sarcastically. “And your Bambie looks a hell of a lot different to the Miss T from school, but both versions of that woman you treated like shit look a hell of a lot better than Grober. I didn’t even recognize her. That’s on Tina.”

“Yeah.” Missing my joint and the buzz I should be enjoying if it wasn’t for Bobby, I eye off the rest of the bag. “Lucky Tina was on to it. I’m so fuckin’ happy it went down the way it did.”

“Jack.” Grim voiced, Bobby kneels down in front of me and steals away the last of the pathetic buzz I had. “It’s been half a year. You need to stop doing this to yourself. To us.”

“Fuck off, B.”

“I know you’re hurting.” Jon sits down beside me. “I get it, okay? I really get it, but you’re killing yourself and you’re killing your family.”

“Kit hardly sleeps anymore.” Mercilessly, Bobby twists the knife in my gut. “She wasn’t asleep tonight before your girlfriend came out.”

“Not my girlfriend.”

“Not my point! She can’t sleep. She’s not eating. She’s not functioning, because she’s worried sick about you. But unlike the last time you were grieving, you’re not even trying to get better this time.”

“Get better?” Standing, I push past him and stalk across my room.

Rage – my constant companion these days – flows in my veins, bubbles and oozes and threatens to hurt my family. It’s like I have this power inside, an evil, poisonous power, that begs to be let out.

“Why should I get better?” I spin back and pin Bobby with my eyes. “Would you get better if you lost Kit? Did you get better while you sat by her side day and night for weeks when she was hurt?” I look to Jim, then Aiden and Jon. “Would you get better if it was Tink, or Tina, or Iz? Fuck you assholes for thinking this is no big deal, for thinking I want to be this person.” My chest heaves the way it did on the side of the freeway. “Fuck you for telling me to get over it.” I spin back to Bobby and scream, “I can’t!” Unfamiliar tears blur my eyes. “I don’t know how to get over it. I don’t know how to get better. I don’t know how to live without her!”

Standing, he rushes forward and has me flinching like he’s going to hit me.

I’m so tired of being hit.

But he doesn’t.

He takes me in his arms and hugs me so fucking tight, it almost hurts.

Tears spill over and splash on my cheeks as he holds me together.

I haven’t cried in… forever.

“It’s okay.” He squeezes me tight. “I’m sorry, brother. I’m so sorry this happened.” More arms surround me, until Bobby and I turn into a five-guy gay hugging orgy, but their tight hold has me sobbing, releasing some of my poison through cathartic tears. “You’re right,” Bobby continues quietly. “If that was Kit, I wouldn’t get over it. I’d never get over it, I’d never get better.”

“I don’t know how to get better.” Crying, I lean on the guys and sob into Bobby’s shirt. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t wanna live anymore. It hurts too much.”

“None of us can know what you feel, Jack.” Sniffling, Jim’s tear streaked face rests against my shoulder. “If this happened to us, any of us, we’d rather die than live without them. We wouldn’t wanna continue without them.” He squeezes my shoulder. “But we can’t let you go that easy. We can’t let you kill yourself. We loved Steph.” His hand rests on my head to hold me close. “We really did. We watched her grow up just like we watched you. She was our sister for a long time, but we love you more , Jack. So much more. We won’t let you kill yourself.”

Hours later, after the guys left my house and went back to their own, after the girls returned from their cruise around town in my car, after my humiliating but ridiculously cathartic release while my brothers held me, and after the sun rose again; for the first time since before Steph was taken, I tie the laces on my sneakers and whistle for Annie to grab her leash.

She doesn’t need it, we don’t use it, but if the cops drive by, they’ll ticket me just because they’re dicks.

Alex Turner – our town’s new chief, since the former got old and threw his back out last year – has a hard on for my family.

It’s nothing too serious, he’d still save our lives if we were in genuine danger, probably , but he seems to get a sick thrill out of arresting us, and he hands out parking violations and dog-shit-on-the-lawn violations like they’re candy.

He just loves cashing checks with Kincaid or Reilly written on them, but he’s especially giddy when they’re signed Hart, since Jon kicked his baby brother’s ass a few years ago.

Over a girl. Over Tink.

Annie waddles toward me as though last night didn’t happen, as though she didn’t fuck me over for a girl, and dropping her leash at my feet, she looks up to me with a smug grin.

Scoffing, I walk away. “Pick your own damn leash up, traitor. If you wanna go for a run, you’ll carry it yourself. You can carry your own shit bags, too. ”

In answer, she twerks her ass and spins in circles.

“And since you’re finally back from your girl’s night out, we need to talk.” Kneeling down, I act as though I’m scolding a naughty toddler. “Don’t you ever growl at me like that again! I know your traitorous ass was protecting her last night.” Shaking my head, I say goodbye to an almost decade long friendship. “A pretty girl walks in and you dump me like I stink of roach shit. Fuckin’ women. You team up and break the men.”

Grumbling, I shake my head to dislodge the ‘you’re talking to a dog, man. You’re skirting that edge of insanity.’

I know who the fuck I’m talking to. And I know she understands.

“Maybe you should go live with her, huh? I bet she doesn’t make the meat and gravy like I do.”

Standing with a huff of dread, I turn for the door and prepare to run off the anxious energy that’s been in my gut since I first told Bambie to fuck off. Stepping in front of me, Annie stops me before I cross the threshold. Pushing her head against my stomach, she silently apologizes, then she runs her slobbery tongue up my arm and almost forces a smile from between my lips.

Wiping the slobber away, I step into the sunshine and stare at the sky. “Whatever, traitor. Start running. Vacation time is officially over.”