The Beckett Boys- The Complete Series Box Set

by Olivia Chase

  I let myself be led in and see Will, along with a few other people, milling around in Phoebe’s apartment. A dinner party. Great timing, douche, I think. There’s no way I can talk to her now. I should go. “I don’t want to interrupt,” I tell them. “You guys are clearly busy.” I start to back away.

  “Nonsense.” Dana nudges me toward the living room. “Phoebe, go get him a drink. He’s staying for dinner.” She tosses Phoebe a wink. “Now he can meet the rest of your family. Works out perfectly.”

  Oh God. Not just a dinner party. A family dinner party. My chest tightens. Fuck. I can’t help but watch Phoebe as she grabs a beer out of the fridge, cracks off the top, then hands it to me. Our fingers brush, and something shivers through my skin at the contact. I can see it in her eyes too. She’s conflicted, and I detect a riot of emotions flying across her face.

  “I just wanted to talk to you,” I whisper. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Not to mention I’m not exactly in the mood to socialize. “I should leave.”

  “You can stay. If you want. But you don’t have to. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or force you to do something you don’t want.”

  Her words are so hesitant, so shy, that I feel a kick in the nuts. She is obviously hurt by last night. I did this to her. I made the smile fade from her face.

  I try to ignore the uncomfortable pressure on my chest. “I’d like to be here. If you’re okay with it.” Maybe I can wait it out until everyone leaves and then talk to her after.

  A hesitant smile crosses her face. It’s obvious she didn’t believe I’d stay. “That would be nice.”

  I make myself stand there with my beer in hand, offering awkward smiles to family members talking about memories I don’t know anything about. I watch an older man, whom I’m told is Phoebe’s uncle, pour a massive shot of vodka in his glass and chug it down. Then another. And another. Ah, we found the drunk in the family. Surprised he isn’t swigging straight from the bottle.

  Well, not my place to judge. But I’m not in the mood to deal with drunken nonsense, so I stay on the other side of the room.

  Phoebe is mingling among everyone. I can’t help but watch her, hypnotized. She’s magnetic, her soft smiles and gentleness making her family feel comfortable, drawing out laughs. I’m staring, and I know it probably looks crazy, but I can’t stop it.

  She’s intoxicating.

  “So, you’re Hale, huh?” The drunk uncle sidles up to me and clinks his newly refilled glass against my beer bottle. “Heard about you. The boxer, huh? You’re fighting in that tournament she’s working on, right?”

  I give him a stiff nod. His eyes look bloodshot. This guy likely started drinking before this party started. I can smell the booze coming out of his pores. “Yup.”

  His red-lined eyes look me over. I can see disdain in his face. “So, why boxing? Couldn’t really find anything else you were skilled at?”

  I draw in a fast breath and exhale. It’s clear this man is beyond trashed. I’m not going to let my hotheaded nature get the better of me. “I run a bar and restaurant,” I say evenly, trying to not give in to the jab against me. “But this is something I’ve wanted to pursue for a while.”

  “Yeah.” He looks at Phoebe, brow raised. “Well, I guess I can see why she’s attracted to you. Girl isn’t exactly Kate Moss, and then you show her attention.” He takes a big swig of his vodka. Burps. “Of course she’s going to fall for it.”

  My blood pressure spikes. I’m clenching my beer hard enough to almost shatter the bottle. “Don’t talk about her that way. That’s not how it is with me and her,” I grit out.

  “Sure it isn’t.” The guy rolls his eyes. “I’ve met enough of your type. Pump and dump, am I right?”

  That hits far too close to home, and guilt mingles with fury in my chest. I can’t stop the fury igniting in me; I step right up in his personal space. “The fuck did you just say to me?” I growl. “You don’t know shit about me. You’d better shut your fucking drunk mouth right now before I shut it for you.”

  Everything is boiling in me, and I can’t hold it back. All the anger from last night, the guilt, the rage. My fists are tightly clenched.

  It takes Phoebe shoving me away from this asshole for me to realize that I had already gotten myself right up in his face.

  “What are you doing?” she barks at me. “What is going on?”

  I can feel my whole body vibrating with my rage. I just want to hit that fucker in the mouth. How dare he insult her? And attack me on top of it? He doesn’t know me. Sure as fuck felt comfortable judging me though. I look over at her tell her, “This drunk fucker said some shitty things to me.” When I turn my hot gaze to the guy, I can see fear in his bloodshot eyes. He’s cowering.

  Everyone else at the party is quiet, staring at me, their eyes wide with fear.

  Fuck.

  “I…I think you should go,” Phoebe whispers, folding her arms tightly across her chest and seeming to retreat physically from my presence.

  “Wait.” Anxiety is making my stomach flip over. Fuck. This isn’t what I wanted to happen. It takes all my effort to rein my rage in. I gently take her arm and lead her away from her family, toward the kitchen. I just wanted to have a private moment with her. To explain the angst going on with me. And all I’ve done is make everyone afraid. “Look. This isn’t how I thought things would go.”

  “No?” Her eyes are narrowed, and she rips her arm out of my grasp. “So when you came here and then threatened my family, you thought everything would be okay?”

  “I didn’t…” I squeeze my eyes and suppress a scream. How the hell has this turned into being my fault? He was the asshole. The one insulting me. Insulting her. But I’m the jerk. I’m the one out of line here.

  “You didn’t what? Just threaten to hit him?” Her eyes are wide with shock.

  I look toward the living room. Everyone is still silent, staring at me. Dana and Will aren’t looking so welcoming anymore. Their faces are etched in stone, eyes hard.

  I’m not wanted here.

  Shame fills me, head to toe, replacing all the rage I felt earlier. I fucked up royally. But I just wanted to explain myself. I didn’t come here to start a fight. “Can we talk in the hallway?” I ask, not wanting everyone staring at us. I’m feeling scrutinized. Paranoid.

  I can tell she doesn’t want to go with me. There’s a look in her eyes that kicks me in the nuts. She’s afraid of me.

  I did this to her.

  “I’m…not going to hurt you.” I can’t fucking believe I have to say that.

  Phoebe shoots me a hard look to cover up her vulnerability. “Fine. But just for a few minutes.”

  We step outside, and she closes the door behind her.

  I rake my hand through my hair and scramble to put my thoughts together. “Look. Shit has been…it’s been all over the place. I don’t know how to deal with everything.”

  “You think?” she lobs back. “None of your actions are making sense. You leave me last night after…” She flushes. “Well, you know. Then you come to my house and scream at my family. Hell, your father stabbed someone, and you’re just sweeping it under the rug like it’s no big deal. It’s just wrong.” She pauses, her jaw tight. “You have to tell the police what happened. And you need to get therapy. You have a lot of stuff to sort out, Hale.”

  The idea of talking to some stranger about my feelings sets me on fire. “Fuck no,” I tell her hotly. “I don’t fucking need therapy. And I’m not going to rat on my own father. If you wanna go to the cops, I can’t stop you, but leave me out of it. I won’t bail on my old man.”

  Some part of me is furious that she’d even suggest therapy…and ratting my dad out. What the fuck? I don’t need a shrink. Or a woman trying to change me. There isn’t anything wrong with me. It’s just my fucked-up situation is all.

  “Hale.” Her voice is so quiet I can barely hear it. “I can’t do this anymore.”

  I know what she’s saying. She doesn’t want to se
e me anymore. My heart is breaking, even as my pride is rearing its ugly head. “Yeah, seems that’s for the best. This wasn’t gonna work out anyway.” As much as that hurts to say, it’s true. She and I are too different. I’m not good for her. Look at the shit storm my life has become.

  Phoebe doesn’t even look at me. She just nods, her gaze fixed on the ground, then slips quietly into her apartment. The door clicks softly behind her.

  It takes me a minute to make myself walk to my car. Get inside. Drive home. I feel like everything I thought was steady, my life and identity, were built on sand. My heart is shattered beyond recognition.

  I pushed Phoebe away once and for all. There’s no possible way she and her family would ever accept me back. It’s for the best, right? I slip in my house. Lie down on my bed, dressed, staring at the ceiling. I tell myself to not care. I tell myself that my heart is hard. That I don’t need to break down like my brothers did and fall for someone. This is for the best for all of us. Clearly I’m not right for her family. And she isn’t right for me.

  Therapy? Fuck no.

  And ratting on my father? I can’t.

  Still…still, I have to admit. A small, bad part of me hopes that Phoebe will go to the cops, which is probably why I blurted that out. Because deep down, I want my father to go back to prison. But obligation and guilt keep me from turning him in myself.

  I’m not stupid. I know my family is fractured beyond repair. That Butch’s philosophy of loyalty is built on lies. Deception. Ignorance. I can’t fix that.

  And I don’t know if I can live with it anymore.

  Phoebe

  I walk back inside my apartment. I feel like my guts were ripped out and left hanging outside my pelvis. So that’s it then. We’re done. For some stupid reason, I thought he might actually fight for me. But why would he? I’m not that important anyway. I found that out last night when he ran off after we had sex.

  Intense, amazing, soul-searing sex.

  I close the door behind me, draw in a steadying breath, then face my family. Offer a smile like nothing is wrong. Stroll over to the stove to check on the lasagna. “Dinner will be ready in a few minutes,” I tell them.

  It’s easier to keep my attention on getting stuff ready for our meal than to face my family. My heart is splintered. Stupid heart. How could I let myself even start to fall for a man like him? Of course we weren’t going to make it. Hale thinks he’s invincible. Inhuman. That he can’t be bested.

  He was never going to be the right choice for me, and I was insane to even let myself start to fall for him.

  “You okay?” Dana asks, rubbing my arm. Her eyes are filled with worry. “I don’t know what happened…but that wasn’t good.”

  Part of me wants to protest that that wasn’t him. At least, not the Hale that I’ve seen. But is that right? Because he is a hothead. Hale solves problems with his fists. Hale is angry and he refuses to acknowledge that it’s a problem. I sigh. “I know. I’m sorry. That was so awkward.”

  “Shhh...” Dana presses a kiss to my forehead, and it brings back memories of being a scared little girl, feeling alone and abandoned, and her slipping into my room and holding me until I fell asleep. “This is for the best. He has a lot of stuff he has to work out. I don’t think you should see him anymore, sweetie. He isn’t good for you.”

  Logically she’s right. But my heart is devastated at the thought.

  After he fights the last fight, I won’t be seeing him ever again.

  It’s for the best. I know that. But deep down, I know that he cared about me, that he’s a good person underneath all that anger and hard emotion. His life is just complicated. He’s complicated. And I can’t deal with that. I can’t fix that.

  I have to step back, for my own sanity. No matter how badly it hurts.

  And right now it hurts more than I feel I can bear.

  “We need another shot,” Ramona declares, waving down our waitress. We’re at Foley’s, the local sports bar in town. Waitresses flit around in tiny outfits that barely cover their assets. I guess whatever gimmick works.

  Good thing I took an Uber here. I’m already halfway to blotto and it isn’t helping me forget about what happened yesterday with Hale. I keep telling myself it doesn’t matter. That I don’t care. But the deep-down truth is, I do. The deep-down truth is, Hale got under my skin. Wormed his way in my heart, even in such a short time. I’m the worst kind of idiot.

  I knew he was a fighter from day one. Knew he wasn’t for me because of his proclivity for violence. But I dropped my guard and let him in. And I got burned.

  I’m the fool here.

  I take the pineapple upside down cake shot the waitress brings up and click the glass against hers, then swallow it. It’s all fine. I don’t care. I’m not going to let him crush my heart anymore. I’m strong and independent. I deserve better than this.

  Ramona and I sit at our table, scoping out people around us. “So, you wanna talk about what happened, or just keep drinking?”

  “Honestly?” I say with a choked laugh. “Drink. I’d rather do anything than think about my life right now. Tell me what’s going on with you. Any fun callers in lately?” Ramona runs a late-night pet advice radio show that’s gone regional and is syndicated in several Midwest cities. I’m usually in bed and don’t get a chance to listen, but on the occasions I have, it’s been fun. She gets some very strange callers in. Some of whom should probably not own pets.

  She laughs and shakes her head, sipping her drink. “Oh God, the other night I had a guy tell me he can’t get his dachshund to stop humping his foot. It was hard to not giggle my way through giving him advice.”

  “Your life is so cool,” I say. At least she’s enjoying her job. I’m looking forward to the day I enjoy mine.

  “Excuse me,” a guy says, standing near our table. He has on a light gray dress shirt, and his beard is neatly trimmed. “This bar is packed. Do you mind if I sit with you two lovely ladies?”

  “Does that line ever work?” Ramona asks point blank.

  I smother a laugh.

  He has the courtesy to flush and give a cheeky shrug. “Well, not yet, but I’m hoping this is the magic moment.”

  “I’ll hand it to you—at least you’re honest.” She waves him to sit down, and he slides into the seat between us. His knee is pressing against my thigh, and I shift so he has more space. “Tell me, player, what’s your name?”

  “I’m not really a player. Sorry. I just saw you two talking and laughing…” His eyes meet mine. “And I just wanted to come over here and say hi. I’m Dave.” There’s a weight in his gaze, words he’s not saying. The way he’s looking at me makes my face burn.

  He’s not disguising his interest in me.

  Dave is attractive, a few years older than me, with a nice smile and a dimple on his left cheek. Dark blue eyes, thick lashes. And I’m not the least bit into him.

  I can’t help but compare him to Hale. The jerk. I don’t want to think about him. I want to erase him from my mind, pretend that he never existed. My chest is still a knot of pain whenever he slips into my thoughts. Which is far too often.

  He and I are done. Time for my heart to get the memo.

  Ramona gives me a knowing look. I give a bland smile back. “So,” she says with a grin, turning her attention back to our guest and draining the last of her cocktail. “Dave. I’m Ramona, and this is Phoebe. Wanna buy us a drink? That seems like a gentlemanly thing to do.”

  His lips quirk. “Well, far be it from me to not be a gentleman.” He waves down our server and orders another round.

  “I really shouldn’t,” I start to protest, but Ramona rolls her eyes.

  “Yes, you really should. You just shush and be a good girl and drink your free drink.” She winks.

  I can’t help but laugh.

  “You have a beautiful smile,” Dave tells me. He isn’t being too pushy, despite his cheesy pickup line to sit at our table.

  I stare down at my almost empty glass. “Th
anks.”

  “So, do you like sports?” Ramona asks him. “Phoebe here is an event planner for the big boxing tournament in town.”

  “Yeah?” His eyes sparkle as he looks at me. “I’ve been to a few of the most recent matches. What do you think about Beckett? Looking forward to seeing how he does against Gunner. I think it’ll be a good fight.”

  “I think he has a good chance,” I say generically. “So what do you do?” I ask to change the subject. I don’t want to think about Hale. Hearing this man talk about him is a knife in my heart.

  “I work in finance,” he says. “I’m a financial planner.”

  “Ramona works on the radio,” I say. Suddenly I want his attention off me. I’m not ready for this. I’m uncomfortable.

  “Oh?” He looks at her. “Well, that sounds interesting.”

  Our drinks arrive. Thankfully, Ramona has picked up on my discomfort and is leading the conversation. Turns out Dave has pets, so they get to discussing animals. I drink quietly, offering a couple of comments here and there but letting them take the lead.

  My head starts to hurt. I’m tired. I just want to curl up in bed and go home. I know Ramona meant well, having me meet her here, but I don’t want to get out there and date again. I fell hard for Hale, as stupid as that is.

  I make an excuse and leave. Ramona offers to come with me, but I wave her off and order her to stay. Seems like Dave has transferred his attention to her and is getting flirty—better that way, anyway.

  Once I’m home, I drink a bunch of water, pop two ibuprofen, and crawl into bed. Despite my fatigue, it still takes me far too long to shut my stupid brain off and stop thinking about him.

  My stomach is a riot of butterflies.

  It’s the night of the big event—the final fight of the tournament. Hale versus Gunner. The auditorium is packed. Diane is walking around looking smug as hell, pleased with the turnout. No doubt she’s taking full credit for it. Like it was a one-woman show or something. Ugh.