Free SMITH (The Beckett Boys, Book One) by Olivia Chase

closing the door quietly behind me.

    * * *
    T he week crawls by in a tedium of work. Bar business keeps me busy enough, and when I’m not at work, I’m either getting shitty sleep or running. My already surly attitude is brewing over into the red zone. Jax tried to crack a joke about me needing to get laid and I shot him a look so angry that he just walked away, hands up in the air.
    I know I shouldn’t take my mood out on them. Because I know the reason I’m feeling so fucking off.
    I haven’t seen Aubrey in days.
    And why should I expect to? I snuck out of her apartment like a total asshole. I don’t have her number. The only information I know about her is where she lives.
    When Friday comes, I’m extra on edge the whole night. The minutes tick by in a painful slow cadence. Maria tries to flirt with me but I pretty much ignore her.
    My gaze keeps being dragged back to the door.
    The door where Aubrey never comes through.
    And it’s my own fucking fault. Even though I know it’s best for both of us, I still want to see her face, hear her laugh, push her buttons and make her snipe right back at me.
    Run my tongue along her skin and elicit a groan so sexy it makes my dick throb.
    Aubrey intrigues me, compels me, attracts me like no woman has in a really long time. But I can’t have her, because I’ll end up fucking it all up and ruining her. Ruining myself, too.
    For once in my life, I’m trying to do the noble thing. The selfless thing.
    And I hate it so damn much.
    “Are you okay?” Asher asks me as he brings a tray of dirty mugs over to wash. “You’ve seemed…especially angry this week.”
    I roll my eyes. “I’m fine.”
    Asher’s lips thin as he presses them together, and he turns to face the sink and wash the mugs. When he finishes that and puts them on the rack to dry, he faces me yet again. “Smith, I’m fucking tired of this.”
    “Tired of what?” The anger in his eyes both takes me aback and brings my own surliness back to the surface.
    “Of you punishing me for coming home for the summer. I have the right to make my own choices, whether you like it or not.”
    “Yeah, you do. And you made a stupid one. You could have stayed there and gotten an internship in your major and building up experience, but instead you’re here, slinging beer at this place. You’re not going to get anywhere by working here.” The words are blunt. I’m not filtering myself with him about this topic. He fucked up on this one.
    “Maybe I should’ve stayed, but I came back. It’s my right to do what works for me, though. Keep being pissed if you want, but I don’t regret it.” His eyes flare as he lobs the words at me.
    A customer waves at me; I pour her a beer, trying to keep my frustration from boiling over, and shoot her a tight smile. Then I make my way back to Asher. “Of course you don’t regret it. You have the luxury of being able to just do whatever you want.”
    “You can go to school too, you know,” he retorted. “You’re not dead.”
    “There’s no way this business will make it without me.”
    “God, you’re so fucking arrogant.” His voice is filled with shocked wonder. “You really think Jax and I are so stupid that we couldn’t handle things here ourselves? That we’d just drive Dad’s business into the ground without your saintly presence to keep us all alive?”
    My lungs tighten at the accusation in the words. Because the truth is, that is how I feel. That neither of them could handle it. And given the fact that Jax is a complete fuckup and Asher just started growing facial hair recently—I’d say that my gut is pretty accurate on this one.
    Without me saying a word, Asher can still read it on my face. “Fuck you,” he tells me quietly, then leaves.
    A flood of emotions are surging through me—anger, guilt, frustration. My life isn’t what I wanted it to be, not at all. Not even close. I had my own dreams and aspirations. Then Dad died, leaving me with two teen