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

brothers to raise and a failing bar to tend to.
    My chest is tight as I serve customers. I can barely keep a restraint on my rampant feelings. They threaten to explode. I cannot lose my shit right now. I have to be the responsible one, the father figure. Asher might not like it, but I do have a point to how I’m feeling. He could have used the experience to help him after he graduates next year.
    I pour a beer for myself and take a long draw of the refreshing liquid. Maybe alcohol will take the edge off. I rarely drink at work unless a customer buys me something, but I need it tonight.
    The tension keeps ramping up in me, tightening my chest. God, why am I so fucking worked up right now? I know exactly why. It’s because I keep screwing shit up in my life. I try to make things right and I end up making people pissed. And I’m tired and need to feel good.
    I want to feel Aubrey in my arms, to hold her close and feel her warmth—forget all of this nonsense. But that’s not going to happen and I need to put it out of my mind for at least a little while.
    When I head back to the office, Jax follows me in there.
    “Not now,” I tell him, a warning clear in my tone.
    “Dude, you’re a fucking mess. You need to go. Take a night off. Pretend you remember how to just be a man and not a business owner.”
    “I can’t take a night off,” I reply. I dig through the papers on the desk, looking for last night’s totals for comparison against tonight’s. It seems like a better crowd in here right now.
    “As part owner, I insist. Get the fuck out of here. You’re stressing the customers.”
    I stare hard at him.
    Jax gives me a small smile and laughs. “Okay, not really. But you’re stressing me. Please. Just go. You can’t keep working at this pace, man. Take the night off and enjoy yourself. Have fun. Find a chick to bang. I promise we’ll be okay. We can always text you if there’s an issue.”
    I have to admit, it’s tempting. I haven’t taken a night off in so long I can’t remember the last time.
    Jax can see that his words are working on me. He goes for the death blow. “Dad would not want to see you killing yourself like this. You know it would hurt him.”
    My breath exhales in a hard whoosh, and I run my fingers through my hair, over my beard. “Fuck.” All the fight leaves me at the mention of Dad. No, he wasn’t the best businessman, but he did the best he could for me and my brothers. Made sure we went out and did things together. Fishing, baseball games, skiing.
    The familiar pain that I always feel when I think about Dad comes creeping back in, and my chest grows tight.
    He comes over and pats my shoulder. “One night. It won’t be the end of the world. Stop being our dad and remember that you have a right to a life, too.”
    “You have to text—no, call—if anything goes wrong.”
    “We will.”
    “And if someone starts a fight, make sure to break it up immediately so it doesn’t get worse.”
    “Yeah, we know.”
    “And keep an eye on the kegs—”
    “Fucker, we know. Shut up, idiot, and get out of here.” Jax shoves my back. I growl at him, and he laughs. “Yeah, yeah, big guy. Don’t forget, I can take you.”
    “One time, when you were like twelve.”
    “Best day of my life.” He winks. “I was thinking of getting a trophy for it.”
    I can’t help it. I laugh. Asshole knows how to work me. I glance at the time on my phone. It’s only nine-thirty. A whole night off…what am I going to do?
    I grab my keys and head out the crowded bar toward my motorcycle. Crank it up, rev it, then back out of the spot and just drive. I’m not sure where I’m going. I just need to feel nothing but the street beneath my tires, the power of the bike. It was my dad’s, and he left it to me in his will, knowing how much I loved helping him restore it.
    Whenever I ride it, I feel closer to him.
    Mile by mile, the tension starts to fade, and my shoulders loosen. The wind whips through my hair. I