ZACK (The Beckett Boys, Book Five)

by Olivia Chase

  My attorney gives me some papers that I need to have stamped downstairs.

  Axel approaches and gives me a strange smile. “I figured you might need this,” he says, and hands me a stack of neatly folded hundreds. “To pay the fine.”

  “Where did this come from?” I say, my eyes widening.

  “I’ve been saving money from my tattoo work,” he says. “This should do it.”

  “I can’t take this, Axel.”

  “Yes you can.” He swallows and looks down. “You’ve always treated me like I belong,” he says. “And you did me proud today, bro.”

  We give each other a strong hug and then I pay the appropriate court fines. A few minutes later, I’m out front of the courthouse, where my other brothers are all waiting at the bottom of the stairs, staring at me.

  Hale scrubs his hand over the back of his neck. “I’m sorry you took the fall for all of us, man. That was big of you. Thank fuck it worked out that you didn’t get convicted.”

  I give a small nod. “It’s fine. It was a dumb fucking idea anyway. Just glad we didn’t all get in trouble.”

  “So…maybe we should do something else next time,” Hale says. “I mean, okay, breaking in didn’t work. Let’s figure out what our next step will be, instead. We can ask Dad’s opinion.”

  There’s no fucking way I’m going to agree to anything, but I need to back them off for a while.

  We all head toward the parking lot.

  Hudson seems meditative. Hale is waiting for me to respond to his thoughts.

  “I don’t know,” I finally tell Hale. “I need time to think about this all. And a little time to myself. Hope you understand.”

  “Yeah, sure, man,” Hale says. He seems dampened by my lack of enthusiasm. But what did he expect, for me to be gung ho about doing another attack on Outlaws right on the heels of my getting thrown in jail?

  I’m lucky I didn’t get a year or two in prison for this shit.

  I have Jamison and Smith to thank for that, even if they do fucking hate me now.

  But can I blame them? I gave them no reason to care about me. I tried to destroy Smith’s family’s namesake. All because I trusted a man who was untrustworthy. Trusted my father.

  I split off from my brothers, arrive at my car, and get in. Stare blankly ahead for several minutes, gripping the steering wheel without turning on the car. Did Butch really forge that entire contract?

  Did he maybe lie to us just to get us to take a bar he doesn’t own, just for his own benefit?

  I’ve learned I really can’t trust what Butch has to say about anything.

  He cares about his reputation, about his own security, more than about me or my brothers. He was more proud of me for getting arrested than for anything else I’ve done to keep the family afloat and our neighborhood safe. I’m just a pawn in his chess game.

  Fuck that. I’m done with it. I’m done with him.

  She tried to warn you about Butch and you ran away like a dog, with your tail between your legs.

  Autumn cared for you, she was so good to you, and how did you repay her when she needed it?

  I feel fucking sick thinking about everything I’ve lost because of stupid pride and arrogance.

  I lost the best thing in my life.

  But I’m not going to give up on her.

  I drive to the elementary school where Autumn teaches. Walk through December-brisk air, which stings my bare skin and freezes my lungs, and head inside the building. It’s been a long time since I’ve been here. I remember running like a little idiot down these halls, having random teachers yell at me to calm down and walk.

  I don’t know which classroom is Autumn’s. I stroll down the hallway, reminiscing, peeking in each door window for her. I turn a left, go down a few doors, and there she is.

  My heart stops.

  Autumn’s wearing a dark red shirt and navy pants, and she’s standing in front of the chalkboard, writing simple mathematic formulas. A closer peek shows her students raising their hands and talking with excited faces.

  Her smile of approval at them makes my chest tight. Seeing her eyes light up, remembering how it felt to have her look at me with such warmth… God, I miss her. Unbelievably so.

  I pause and watch her for a few minutes, soaking her up. Wanting her so badly that I physically ache.

  I love this woman.

  The realization floods me with emotions so staggering they almost make me step backward. How did this happen? And so soon? I don’t know, but Autumn has changed me. She’s made me want to be a better man for her. Made me want to prove myself, show that I can possibly deserve her.

  She’s beautiful. Fun. Smart. Emotional. So open to me in a way I never experienced before.

  These thoughts flood me as I steady myself, then reach forward and twist the doorknob. I walk inside, pasting a large smile on. “Hey, everyone!”

  The class goes quiet, including Autumn, who stares at me with her jaw dropped open.

  I shoot her the most debonair smile I can manage, then turn to her class. “I hear you guys are some pretty smart kids. What, are you learning math or something?”

  A little redheaded girl nods. “It’s pretty complicated.”

  “Zack,” Autumn breathes. “What…”

  I keep my jovial face on. “Can you guys teach me what you’re working on?”

  And then I’m overwhelmed when, like, ten kids all speak at the same time, pointing at the board and explaining subtraction or something to me. I actually don’t understand what they’re saying, but I nod and murmur at the appropriate times.

  “Zack,” Autumn says in a low whisper, eyes narrowed at me.

  “Ooh, you’re in trouble,” a little boy says, eyes wide at me. “She only gives us that look when we messed up.”

  I give them an exaggerated frown, which makes them laugh, and then I walk over to Autumn, where she’s standing by her desk. “Yes, Miss Douglas?”

  The class titters.

  Autumn turns to her students. “You guys work on the problems in the book. I’m going to talk to Mr. Beckett right in the hall, and then I’ll be back in a minute.”

  “Is he your boyfriend?” a girl asks, her voice lisping.

  Autumn frowns. “Please just focus on your work.” Then she grabs my arm and guides me out the door. “What are you doing here?” she whispers, her eyes angry. She drops her hand like touching me burned her flesh. “Shouldn’t you be in prison for what you did?”

  I swallow. Okay, so she isn’t feeling very open to me. I knew that going into this. I draw in a steadying breath. “I know you don’t have the best impression of me right now, Autumn.”

  “You think?” Her sarcasm is ripe. She crosses her arms in front of her chest. “You called me from jail after you vandalized your cousin’s bar. What am I supposed to think of you? And now, you saunter in here, your charming smile on, and try to impress my kids, but I’m not having it.”

  “I wasn’t trying to—”

  “I don’t want to hear anything you have to say.” Autumn’s face falls, and I see tears welling in her eyes. She blinks fast, staring up at the ceiling. “I fell for your charm. But I was the fool, because beneath that charm was a person who only cares about himself and what he wants, no matter the expense.”

  Her words cut me. My heart feels ripped to shreds. “Autumn,” I start to say, but she holds up a hand, tears streaking down her face.

  “No, seriously, Zack. I can’t listen to you bullshit me ever again. You represent corruption and destruction. I don’t want any part in that.”

  “I know that was true, but I’ve—”

  “If you say you’ve changed, I’m going to lose my mind,” she says hotly. “Because there’s no way you can expect me to believe that in a matter of a week, you’ve seen the light about your wicked ways.” She sucks in a ragged breath and looks at me. The defeat, the distance in her eyes, they take the last of the hope from me. “I can’t be with someone like you. And I don’t want to be.”<
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  It kills me to do this. But I nod and step away. “Okay,” I say, letting the pain hit my chest full force.

  How can I fault her? She’s seen the worst of me. Seen my dark side. Why would she possibly believe that I’m any different? That I’ve realized how fucked up my life was? That my dad was a destructive force that caused me to be just as bad?

  I start to walk away, then turn around. “Take care of yourself, princess,” I say quietly, and then I turn the corner and head, alone, down the hallway toward the exit. I step outside into the chilly air. It’s overcast, with no sunshine, and the cold and grayness reflects my mood. I feel dead inside.

  I get in my car.

  Go home.

  Crack open a beer, then stare listlessly at the can until I just stick it back in the fridge.

  I can’t fix this with her. I can’t make her see. I’ve lost the woman I’ve fallen for, and it’s my own damn fault for not giving her any reason to believe in me. And now I have to live with that.

  I would have rather done prison time—a year, even two—if I’d known that when I got out, Autumn would be waiting for me with open arms.

  But instead I’m free and clear, and she’s gone.

  It’s the worst punishment yet.

  Two weeks have gone by, and now I know why Smith was so happy to get me off with just volunteer labor at Outlaws.

  This shit is fucking brutal.

  I scrub the floorboards in the bar, knees throbbing, but keep my mouth shut. Halfway done with my work, I tell myself. Two more weeks, and I’ll have fulfilled the requirements the judge set before me.

  It’s already been fourteen days of demeaning, backbreaking labor. Every business day, I’ve shown up an hour before the bar opens and started doing whatever Smith ordered me to.

  Fixing the walls Hale broke with chairs by patching or even replacing the drywall, then painting to match the existing walls. Repairing the sink, the oven, the floor tiles that were damaged from being smashed.

  It’s been grueling work.

  Grueling, yes. But every minute, every hour of labor helps me feel better about the damage I caused. I’m fixing at least one fucked-up thing in my life. And that counts for something.

  When I started the work here, I told my brothers that they were to leave Outlaws alone in the immediate future while I sorted everything out. Naturally, they didn’t like this turn of events—being far too similar to what happened with Jamison.

  Hale was the loudest protestor, fearing we were going to lose our momentum, that this would set us right back to the beginning.

  Admittedly, I don’t like this a lot, either.

  I mean, I’ve spent two weeks covered in muck, scrubbing and repairing and painting without complaint. I refuse to let anyone see any emotion out of me. To let them see that I’m whining.

  I’m no little bitch. I do my work, and I finish it.

  But even more important, I know I need to change. Losing the woman I love made that painfully clear. When Autumn turned me away, it confirmed that my life was fucked up, and I needed to make real change, not just lip service. After all, what reason have I given her to believe me?

  I can say until I run out of breath that I’ve changed, but what matters is what I do with my life.

  So I show up at Outlaws every day, without griping, and I work my ass off to atone for what I did to the bar. For my cousins. For myself.

  For Autumn.

  “You scrub well,” Jax says in a teasing tone as he passes by me, carrying two mugs of beer. He’s been busting my balls, of course. But I refuse to get bent out of shape about it. Instead, I crack jokes back at him.

  The important thing is that I’m here and doing what I need to.

  So I nod at him. “I’ll make someone a great little housewife one day.”

  That makes him laugh. He passes me and heads to the bar, but I see him give me a small nod of respect as I continue working. And to be honest with myself, I deserve to take some shit for what I’ve done to them. They made a successful business, and I tried to steal it—and then destroy it.

  Another twenty minutes pass of me scrubbing floorboards. Then Jax says, “Zack. I need some help.”

  I stand up and wipe my hands on my knees. “What’s up?”

  “Go wash up. I need you to help around the bar. We have more customers than I can keep up with.” He nods toward the tables. “Can you serve beer and food?”

  I raise a brow. “I’m not dumb.”

  He smirks. “I’m glad to hear that. I know this is outside of your original…plans, so we’ll pay you extra to help out. What do you think?”

  Is he asking me to work at Outlaws?

  I never expected this day to come. This is ironic and then some.

  I almost laugh at his request. But the more I think about it, the more I warm to the idea. A little spending cash right now would help, and besides, they really do need the help right now.

  The place is hopping and Jax is getting overwhelmed.

  “Tell me what to do,” I say to Jax.

  A slow smile spread across his face. A smile of approval. He nods, and then pulls me behind the bar. “Let me show you how things work so you can get started.”

  Autumn

  “It’s almost Christmas!” Harper declares as we push open the door to Outlaws. Inside, holiday music is playing, albeit from alternative artists, not the classics, and the walls are decorated with Christmas trim. “We need Christmas beers and Christmas cheer, stat.”

  It’s hard to smile, but I fake it as best as I can as I follow her—my hand tightly clenched in hers—and her lithe, blond cousin, Marti, through the bar.

  Harper was insistent we come here to celebrate Friday, and the fact that classes are over next week for Christmas.

  I want to be in a holiday mood.

  Desperately so.

  But I can’t seem to muster it. All I can do is feel like total crap about me and Zack and what happened between us. Because truth is, I’m in love with the man. Like an idiot, I fell for him, hard, but he is so raw and messed up, and I can’t get drawn into his troubled world. Into the tangled web he lives in.

  All he’ll do is hurt me again. Disappoint me again.

  Harper, Marti, and I find a seat in the packed bar, and we pick up the menus on the table.

  “What are you getting? Should we try a pitcher of margaritas?” Marti asks. She’s a couple of years younger than me, freshly minted twenty-one, but she’s sweet and genuine. This is my first time meeting her, and I already like her.

  I shrug. “I don’t know.”

  Harper shoots me a glare that’s hot enough to burn a hole in the sun. “Bitch, get your shit together. Don’t be mopey. We need celebratory drinks. And I want you drunk and happy. You got it?”

  I laugh and nod. “Yes, ma’am. So, it’s happy hour…maybe we can do a pitcher of the strawberry margaritas, since they’re on sale? Those sound good.” I hope I come across enthusiastic. Because I just feel so empty inside.

  Even being this close to Zack’s cousins makes me ache for him. I’m the worst kind of fool—the one who can’t let go of someone who’s toxic for her. My heart feels like he’s snagged in its depths…how am I supposed to move forward when some ridiculous, stupid part of me still aches for him?

  I want to loathe myself for missing him. But I can’t, not as much as I know I should. I have to at least acknowledge that he helped me learn more about myself. How multi-faceted I am, that I have a dirty, wicked side that craves satisfaction. How it’s okay for me to be that way. That I don’t have to live my life pleasing those around me…that it’s good for me to seek out my own pleasure.

  Zack taught me how to feel.

  He taught me how to live.

  I never experienced pleasure the way I did with him. Never understood how my body could awaken. Never realized that two people could connect the way we did.

  And God, I miss the smell of him on my skin. The feel of him in my arms.

  Hot tears sti
ng the backs of my eyes as we slide into the table. I stare down at the menu, pretending I’m absorbed with what food I want to order, when I’m really trying to just keep myself from crying.

  The hole in my chest hasn’t knitted itself at all since I told him to leave me alone a couple of weeks ago.

  And every damn day, I’ve regretted it. As stupid as it is to do so. Because every damn day, I’ve gone to bed at night aching for him, wishing we could have worked out.

  Part of me wonders if I should have listened to him that day. Heard whatever explanation he came to give me. But what if he was just going to spin me some yarn about bullshit change? What if I fell for it and then got hurt again? It would kill me. I couldn’t handle the devastation. I already ache too much as it is.

  “Wanna split some appetizers?” Marti asks. She looks up from the menu at us expectantly.

  I suck in a breath and smile. “Anything you want sounds good.”

  Harper eyes me hard. She can see right through me, damn her. She knows I’m struggling. Foley’s, the local sports bar, was crazy crowded and had a massive wait to get a table.

  So when Harper hesitantly suggested Outlaws, I agreed it would be fine, because given Zack’s legal issues with this place, I knew he would be nowhere near it.

  “You okay?” she asks now.

  I nod. Smile. “Of course! I’m starving. What do you think about wings? I prefer barbeque, but I’m open to buffalo if it isn’t too hot.”

  She doesn’t seem convinced at my falseness, but she says, “Okay, wings and margaritas to start. I’ll flag someone down.” She waves her arm in the air. “Oh, I think I found a waiter.”

  When I see who is coming over to our table, I’m pretty sure my heart stops working. Seriously?

  What the hell is Zack doing here?

  He must be able to see the shock, horror, confusion on my face. And he must know that I can see the raw longing on his face, so piercing, so emotional that it makes my chest ache anew. That stupid, foolish part of me that still has feelings for him wants to jump up and touch him, kiss him.

  Instead, I shove my hands under my thighs and remain in place. I keep my face a smooth mask. “What are you doing here?” I finally ask.