Discovering You

3 (#u078a007a-7f7f-5d5c-a636-6cbe4bf43d1f)

The next morning Mack walked into the kitchen. “What happened last night?” he asked.

Rod glanced up from his cereal bowl. He wasn’t feeling any better for having slept. As a matter of fact, he was worse. He wasn’t bleeding anymore and some of the scrapes he’d sustained when he fell from his bike were starting to scab over, but every muscle was sore. He could hardly move without wincing. He was beginning to wonder if he should’ve listened to Chief Bennett and gone to the hospital—not for his leg but for his hand. It was almost twice its normal size and hurt whenever he tried to use it.

“Last night was freaking crazy,” he said. And Mack didn’t know it, but the fight wasn’t the only crazy part. Rod felt terrible about what’d taken place between him and India. He should’ve gone to her place. So what if she wanted to pretend he was her dead husband? It wasn’t her intention to be hurtful or selfish; she was just looking for an escape from the pain. He’d had low moments like that in his life, hadn’t he? When he’d needed to be with someone?

Besides, there were worse tasks than giving a woman a little pleasure and comfort...

“Grady woke me up, said you’d been in a fight with the prick who was giving Natasha so much trouble.” Mack walked over to the cupboard to grab himself a bowl. “When I opened my eyes this morning, I thought maybe it was a bad dream. But now that I see you...”

Rod used his left hand to bring the spoon to his mouth. “I wish it were a dream.”

“Tell me the other guy looks worse.”

“He should. He’s the one who’s in the hospital.”

“Good for you,” Mack said. “I don’t feel the least bit sorry for him. Sounds like he’s where he deserves to be.”

Rod rested his elbows on the table. “Whether he deserved it or not, I wasn’t trying to hurt him that bad. He can’t fight worth shit, but he doesn’t seem to understand his own limitations. Every time I’d step back, thinking he’d had enough, he’d take another swing at me.”

“Stubborn son of a bitch,” Mack grumbled. “So how’d it end? Did someone call the police or what?”

“I called. The fight didn’t happen outside the bar. It happened on the road when I was on my way home. And he needed an ambulance.”

Mack whistled. “Which officer came out? Hope it was Howton. Far as cops go, Howton’s not too bad.”

“None other than Chief Bennett. Just my luck, right?”

“He’s not a big fan of yours, not since your ex-girlfriend filed that complaint claiming you beat her.”

Rod grimaced at the reminder. “I never touched Melody.” He’d never even been tempted to strike a woman, but if he ever did, he wouldn’t have the police to fear as much as his older brother. Dylan would beat him to within an inch of his life—and Dylan was one of the few people who could do it. “She was pissed off that I was calling it quits and was trying to get back at me.”

“I know that, and you know that. But once this kind of accusation’s been launched, the dude never gets the benefit of the doubt. There’ll always be people who wonder, and I think Bennett’s one of your skeptics.”

Rod thought so, too. What Melody had done still enraged him. It was so unfair. But the more he protested, the guiltier he looked. He’d had to let it go. He could only hope that someday she’d come forward and tell the truth.

Maybe when she was over him. Until then...

“Bennett’s not a big fan of any of ours,” Rod said as he shoveled another spoonful of cereal into his mouth. “But at least he’s not as bad as the former chief.”

“You would’ve gone to jail if Stacy was still in charge,” Mack agreed. “He loved to yank Dylan’s chain, and he knew he could do that by harassing one of us.” He poured himself some of the Wheaties Rod had on the table. “Does Natasha know you wound up fighting the guy who kept coming on to her?”

“Not unless Grady woke her, too. Why?”

“She won’t be happy about it. You heard her last night. She thinks she can fight her own battles.”

“Yeah, well, it got personal when he crashed into my bike.”

“I’m sure Grady didn’t wake her. He only came into my room to ask me to go with him, in case you weren’t in any shape to help load the bike.”

“Then we won’t mention it,” Rod said, but he knew there’d be no keeping it from her. Not only did she live with them, when she wasn’t in school she also worked at the shop, doing the bookkeeping and other administrative tasks. She’d see his scrapes and bruises and know something was up.

“So what now?” Mack asked. “What’re the chances this incident will just...go away?”

Rod dropped his spoon in his empty bowl. “Not very good. If that guy—Liam Whatever—decides to press charges, it could be a problem.”

Mack scooped up a spoonful of cereal. “He started it. But that might not matter. You’ve been in too many fights to get the benefit of any doubt.”

Rod didn’t appreciate the candor. “You’ve been in as many fights as I have, little brother.”

Mack didn’t argue. He grinned, completely unrepentant. “Have you heard if the jerk’s going to be okay?”

“Haven’t called the hospital yet.”

“He had no business trying to cop a feel off a nineteen-year-old girl.”

That was true. She’d asked him to leave her alone several times. He wouldn’t, which was why they’d stepped in. But talking about Natasha always brought up something Rod didn’t like. He sometimes got the impression that Mack cared a little too much about their stepsister’s love life. Or, rather, he cared in the wrong way. Natasha was nothing like her insufferable mother. Rod was willing to look out for her as a big brother should, or he wouldn’t have stood up for her last night. But Mack was the family pet. Surely there was someone else out there, someone better, as much as Rod hated to use that term, for his kid brother. Natasha was basically a decent person, but anyone who’d been raised by Anya would have issues, and to say she could be prickly was an understatement.

Fortunately, Natasha was heading off to Utah to attend college in the fall, so they only had to get through the summer. With any luck, Mack would meet another new girlfriend—he went through quite a few—while she was away, and Rod’s concerns and suspicions wouldn’t amount to anything. Then, if their father ever divorced the freeloading drug addict he’d married, they’d all be done with Anya.

“I need to go out and find my phone,” he said.

“I could help with that, if you want,” Mack volunteered.

Rod gave him a wry smile. “Nice try, but I think you’ll be more useful at the shop. We’re always busy on Saturdays. I’ll get there as soon as I can.”

Mack scowled. “Why bother? You can’t do anything with a broken hand.”

“It’s not broken,” Rod argued and hoped to God that was true.

The creak of footsteps told them someone was coming down the hall. Rod expected it to be Grady. Unless there was some reason not to, they usually drove to the shop together.

But it wasn’t their brother. It was Natasha, still sporting the X on the back of her hand that told the bartenders she was underage and couldn’t be served last night. Her bleached blond hair was spiked and she wore a nose ring, but no one could deny she was attractive in spite of everything she did to hide her natural beauty. Rod could see how Mack might like her. A lot of guys did. Despite her wild hair and her piercings and tattoos, she had a certain...raw sex appeal. But that didn’t change the many reasons it’d be stupid to get romantically involved with her.

“Thought I heard you.” Her gaze settled on Mack first. It had a tendency to do that—and to return to him again and again. When she finally shifted her attention to Rod, she gasped. “What the fuck happened to your face?”

He walked over to put his bowl in the sink. “Watch your language. We’ve talked about that before. You’re a girl, not a truck driver.”

“Oh, stop with the misogynistic bullshit. I’m of age. I’m not just a girl anymore, and I’ll say exactly what I want,” she told him. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. So what happened?”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re hopeless.”

“Does that mean you’re not going to tell me?”

“Grady’ll have to explain. I gotta run.”

“Why can’t Mack?” she asked.