Page 38 of Wild Card (Foster Bro Code #2)

Axel

My heart skipped nervously as I pulled into Ball Breakers to meet Dalton for dinner.

Half of me wanted to avoid him, just in case my brothers were wrong and he really wanted to wash his hands of his inconvenient boyfriend.

The other half of me missed him like crazy, even though we’d only really gone a day without seeing each other.

Apparently, a day was too much, and how fucking attached had I gotten? Jesus Christ, all that work to prove I didn’t need anyone—even my brothers—right down the toilet. I was clingier than ever.

I swiped sweaty palms against my jean-clad thighs and got out of the car. I’d arrived early so I’d have time to down a couple of beers before Dalton arrived. I was going to need the liquid courage because I really didn’t know if I should tell him to cut me loose or beg him to never leave.

My brothers had kept me busy since my meltdown the other night, suckering me into a movie night and making my childhood favorite, mac-and-cheese with hot dog bits. Mom had always used it to soothe me as a kid. They’d loaded me down with extra work orders for the junkyard too.

They meant well, but I was suffocating under their eagle-eyed attention.

They were afraid I’d go off half-cocked and fuck up shit, the way I always had before.

I couldn’t blame them. A few months ago, I would have handled this whole situation by going out and getting drunk.

Then I would have fought or fucked myself into oblivion.

Anything to combat the panic clawing at my insides, that feeling that I would never be good enough, worthy enough for someone to stay.

There was a tiny voice in my head that kept whispering that Dalton wasn’t like my parents. That he wouldn’t hurt me. That voice had lied to me before, and I wasn’t sure I could trust it, but it was enough to make me wait.

Dalton and I would talk, and then if he left, I’d lose my shit in epic fashion.

The pool hall was starting to fill up, but it was still early by bar standards, so there were plenty of seats at the bar. I grabbed a stool and nodded at the bartender.

Leo reached for the bottle of tequila.

“Just a beer,” I said.

I wanted to take the edge off, not get sloppy drunk. He put the bottle down with an obvious look of relief and pulled me the cheapest beer on tap. He knew me well. I tossed a five-dollar bill on the bar top and took a big swig. Grimaced. The beer was shitty, but I’d expected that already.

I downed half of it to steady my nerves, then about jumped out of my skin when a heavy hand landed on my shoulder.

For a split second, I thought Dalton had arrived early. My heart leapt, relief surging. Then I turned my head. Fucking Jett leaned in close, that sharklike grin on his face.

“Just the man I wanted to see.”

Fuck me. I didn’t want to deal with him today. “Kinda meeting someone soon.”

“Yeah? I hope you’re meeting someone about the venue we need.”

“Listen, about that…”

“Fuck off,” he said, clearly reading my expression. “What the hell is wrong with you?” He grabbed my neck, pressing his forehead to mine, hissing, “It’s easy money, man. Ace wants more action, and he’s got a trust fund. ”

“I can’t do it right now.”

Or maybe ever.

Jett narrowed his eyes. “You still too busy fucking that sheriff’s deputy?”

“He’s about to become the sheriff. I can’t bring that kind of heat down on him.”

He drew back, eyes wide. “Tell me you’re not saying what I think you’re saying, man.”

I shrugged. “The gambling shit was fun, but I’m done.”

He slapped the bar next to my drink. “Fuck that! You’re choosing a fucking pig over me?”

I laughed. I didn’t know why I did it, but there was something about his provocation that was exactly the outlet I needed.

All my pent-up nerves spilled out as I sneered at him, blood firing up.

“Why wouldn’t I? You’re a lunatic who’s probably gonna end up in prison or dead in the next five years.”

His expression turned thunderous. That crazy gleam I’d seen in his eye so many times before—directed at others—was now flashing right at me.

“Say that again, you pig fucker!” he snarled.

I hesitated a beat. I should really defuse the situation. It wasn’t my first instinct, but I wouldn’t be doing myself any favors if Dalton walked in on me brawling with fucking Jett.

“I’m sorry if it seems like I jerked you around,” I forced out.

“So, that’s it? You’re done with me and Sully? You’re choosing the cop. You’re gonna be a law-abiding citizen. Stay home in the evenings and make him dinner before you suck his dick?”

Irritation flared. “I’m not Betty Crocker. I’m just not looking for trouble anymore, okay? It’s not personal.”

I grabbed my beer and attempted to step around him. He blocked my path, jabbing me in the chest. “Maybe it’s personal that my friend is a fucking traitor.”

I knocked his hand away. “We’re not friends, man. We’re chaos partners. And that shit is done for me. I want something better.”

“Oh, ’cause we’re not good enough for you.” He shoved me back a step, causing my beer to slosh all over the floor. “We’re not your real friends.” He shoved me again, knocking the bottle from my hand. It hit with a clunk and rolled across the floor, trailing beer behind it.

“You think you can just walk away, knowing everything you know,” he carried on, “and sleep with a fucking cop ?”

He got up in my face, so close that I reacted on instinct, shoving him . “Back the fuck off!”

“What have you told him, huh?” he snarled. “You gonna sell us all out so he can be the big bad man in uniform?”

“It’s not like that. I wouldn’t?—”

“You’re a fucking narc!” he bellowed, not listening to a word I said. Beyond reason. I knew what was coming next, and I jerked to the side.

I wasn’t fast enough. Jett’s fist clipped the edge of my jaw, sending me staggering.

The pain broke the chains I’d wrapped around my temper. With a growl, I launched myself at him, both of us going down with a clatter of chairs.

There was a gasp and a startled cry from other customers, but I couldn’t worry about them. Jett was a rabid fucker, and he fought dirty.

He grabbed a handful of my hair and used it to slam my head into the floor. Stars burst behind my eyelids, and I bit my tongue hard enough to draw blood.

“Take it outside!” Leo bellowed from behind the bar.

Shit, Leo was going to end up banning me. It’d been less than three months since the throwdown here with Dallas.

I jabbed Jett in the ribs and rolled. I just needed to get the upper hand long enough to put an end to this. But I couldn’t dislodge the fucker from my hair. He yanked hard with one hand and got another around my throat.

We struggled and rolled into more tables, throwing fists and elbows and whatever else we could until the whoop-whoop of a siren sounded outside.

Son of a bitch! I didn’t want Dalton to see me like this. I punched Jett in the dick, making him howl like a wounded cat and drop the death grip on my hair.

I rolled away from him, but it was too late.

Feet pounded toward us.

“Stop and put your hands where I can see them!”

Not Dalton’s voice. I shoved the hair out of my face and looked up.

An Asian deputy with silvering hair stood over us, cuffs already in his hands. “Just take it easy, boys. Fight’s over.”

“Fuck that,” Jett murmured, jumping to his feet.

The deputy in front of us was sixty years old if he was a day. As Jett charged him, I swiped out an arm to trip him. I couldn’t let that poor deputy take a beating just because I’d pissed off a crazy asshole.

Jett crashed to the ground hard with a curse, and the deputy moved to kneel on his back. He yanked his wrists behind him, snapping a cuff around one wrist and then the other while he recited the Miranda rights.

Jett cursed up a storm the whole time. “You’re dead to me, Axel! I better never see you again, you fucker, or we’re finishing what we started here.”

“We can add death threats to the charge,” the deputy said in a hard voice. “Is that what we need to do?”

“No, man, I was just pissed,” Jett said, deflating like a kicked puppy. “This was just a friendly tussle, right, Ax?”

“Right,” I said. “We got carried away. That’s all. No need to waste resources taking us in.”

The deputy glanced toward the bartender, then shook his head.

“Come on, Leo,” Jett called. “Tell this cop that it’s no big deal! We’ll leave. No harm, no foul.”

“I’m sick of this shit you’re always pulling,” Leo growled. “I let you get away with it, and everyone will be trashing my bar.” He turned to the deputy. “Take out the trash. Please.”

My heart went into free fall. Trash . That’s what I was. Dalton was preparing to run for election, and I’d let myself be egged into a fucking bar fight. Because that’s who I was. A fuckup who would only drag him down.

The deputy got up and tugged my wrists behind my back.

“I was supposed to meet Dalton for dinner,” I said through numb lips. “He’ll be wondering where I am.”

Jett laughed beside me. “You get special treatment for sucking cop dick? Now it all makes sense. Too bad I’m not into dudes, or I could suck off the deputy and walk free.”

“Shut your mouth before you get charged with soliciting an officer of the law,” the deputy snapped.

“What the fuck?” Jett growled. “I wasn’t?—”

“Shut up, Jett,” I gritted. “You’ll only make it worse on yourself.”

He snapped his jaw shut, but his eyes spoke volumes.

If he was a free man right now, he’d have both hands around my neck, and he’d be strangling me.

Maybe I’d feel the same way in his shoes.

I’d put him off, strung him along, when I should have told him I was out weeks ago.

I’d beat around the bush when guys like Jett only respected blunt force.

The deputy nudged us into a walk toward the door. “Don’t worry, Axel. I’ll call Dalton and tell him where you are.”

My chest cracked. “Tell him to let me rot. I’m not worth the trouble.”

The deputy’s movements faltered a beat before he reached past me to pull open the door and guide us outside. “I’ll let you tell him yourself. Seems only fair.”

The walk to the sheriff’s cruiser, getting pushed into the back seat next to Jett, and the ride to the jail were a blur. Jett talked shit most of the way there, but I didn’t register most of it.

I was too busy spinning out.

I’d really done it this time. Really fucked up beyond repair.

“I’m going to lose him,” I whispered.

Jett laughed low and quiet. “Good. I hope he dumps your ass, and you’re left with nothing, you pig fucker.”

The deputy turned a glare on us through the protective mesh between the seats. “Quiet back there. Don’t give me a reason to file more charges.”

“Like what?” Jett challenged. “You gonna charge me for telling the truth?”

“Just shut it,” the deputy growled.

But Jett didn’t have to say a word for me to hear what he was thinking. Dalton would see me as a liability, and rightfully so. He’d realize he couldn’t be sheriff and be my boyfriend, and he’d make the choice I always knew he’d have to make.

He’d walk away from me, just like everyone else in my life.

I’d be alone. Just me and the dogs.

But Jett was wrong. I wouldn’t have nothing. I’d have the memory of Dalton’s warmth, his smile, his rough kisses and soothing words. I’d have a glimpse of the life I could have had if I hadn’t ruined everything.

No wonder people always left me.

I was useless. Less than nothing.

Trash. Just like Leo said.

And Dalton deserved so much more than that. He deserved everything he wanted in life. The love and support of a good man by his side. Someone who wouldn’t hold him back, but would help him move forward.

My throat tightened, and my body flashed from hot to cold to hot again.

My sinuses burned with the tears I refused to let fall.

I wasn’t a little kid anymore. I wasn’t being unfairly abandoned. I didn’t have the right to beg for forgiveness, as I had the night the social workers took me away.

“ I’ll be better. I promise!” I’d wailed. “I won’t be a bother!”

My parents had barely looked up, zoned out on the sofa, as a social worker tugged me away.

“It’s not your fault, sweetie,” she’d said.

But I’d known she was wrong. If I hadn’t stopped going to school because I didn’t want to walk, if I hadn’t gone next door to ask for food, maybe then my family wouldn’t have sent me away.

I hadn’t understood that time. Or the next. But by the time I ended up with the Forresters, I was a little older. My foster mom told me that my parents had been sick and unable to care for me. That it wasn’t my fault it happened. And I’d believed her.

But deep down, there’d always been a voice telling me that I could have tried harder, could have done better, could have changed the outcome.

Today, that voice got louder. Because I’d done this to myself.

And Dalton had every right to walk away from me.