The Beckett Boys- The Complete Series Box Set

by Olivia Chase

  “He’s giving you one last chance to man up and call things even,” Smith continues. “Any more of this fucking nonsense, anything, and you’ll disappear. Nobody will ever find out what happened to you.” Smith steps close until he’s glaring Conor right in the eye.

  Conor tries his best to look cool, but I can see real fear in his gulp, in the tightening of his jaw, the clench of his fists. He knows Butch is fully capable of such a move.

  Without speaking, he looks around the room at all of us. The Becketts, banded together against him.

  A far bigger threat than any of us alone.

  Conor tilts his head to crack his neck, then brushes a hand down the front of his shirt. “Tell Butch I said hi and I give my respects.” He and his men gather themselves and leave.

  The point was made. Conor knows to lay off the Becketts and move on to easier pickings. We’ve already paid him what we owe, and he knows it.

  The tension that’s been in my muscles for days starts to ease up.

  “We gotta get back to our bar,” Smith says.

  “Thanks for the help,” Hale tells him. He holds out his hand.

  There’s a pause, then Smith takes it, and they shake. We all go over and shake hands, clapping each other on the back. I don’t know what’s going to happen in the future, but a truce sure as fuck would be good. There’s been enough shit between our family for a lifetime.

  Our cousins go to Outlaws, and my brothers and I stay here. I grab the most expensive bottle of whiskey we have and pour three hearty glasses, pushing two across from me. Hale and Axel take a seat.

  We clink glasses and drink in silence.

  Now that the beef has been squashed—not just between us and Conor, but between all of us Becketts—we decide to team up together to rebuild the reputation of both of our establishments. Our first move is a big joint promotion we dub the Beckett Bar Crawl, offering discounts on food and drinks for hitting both bars on Thursday nights—and ladies get half off all drinks. Our goal is to convince the town that we’re safe enough to consider trying again. And if we can get women to come, men will come right after them.

  The first Thursday, it’s slower than I would have liked. We have a few patrons who go to both of our bars. My brothers and I do our best to make them feel welcome. We even hire a “bouncer” to stand by the front doors of both bars, just to reinforce the safety.

  And of course the word also has hit the street that we’ve settled the score with Conor and he has no interest in messing with us anymore.

  The next Thursday, business picks up for us and for Outlaws. A large birthday party comes and has a great time, telling us they’ll be back and they like the dual bar idea. We’re making money, though not nearly as much as we did before with our overnight success. Then again, we’re doing it without Conor being involved, so I’ll take it.

  Fugitives is going to survive, albeit slow going.

  While we’re not at the point of going out and sharing drinks with our cousins, the truce continues to stand. My brothers even stop by occasionally to say hi and check out the place. They offer a couple of tips on how to make the bar work more efficiently. Swallowing my ego, I realize their ideas are salable and implement them, which prove cost-effective and time-saving.

  Work is the only thing keeping me going right now. Getting Fugitives back and running. Because when I’m not working, I’m thinking about Marissa. Agonizing. Craving her touch, her mouth, her heart.

  Every day we’re apart hurts as worse than that first day she walked out the door, like a wound that keeps getting picked open. Every day I lie in bed, kicking myself, wishing I’d made better decisions.

  Nothing is the same here without her.

  Her body’s imprinted against mine, and I can still feel her, even though she’s gone. I find myself waking up at night and reaching over for her. And when she isn’t there, I’m reminded again and again that I pushed her away. I broke us up. I destroyed whatever we had. Because of my ego. My pride. My refusal to open up to her and let her have even an ounce of power over me.

  Biggest fucking mistake of my life.

  I have to fix things with her. If I don’t, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life. Nothing has meaning anymore without her to share it with me.

  This Thursday, the bar is fuller than it’s been in ages. We’re running around, serving customers, music cranked and beer flowing. I keep my focus on work, on bartending, on keeping supplies stocked up.

  But meanwhile, I can feel that the time has come.

  I’ve done what I set out to do here and now I need to take the next step.

  By the time two AM rolls around, we’re all exhausted. The last patron leaves, and we lock the door.

  “Fuck,” Axel says, leaning his back against the door. “I’m glad we’re doing better, but I’m fucking exhausted.”

  “Same.” Hale yawns, stretching. “I’m gonna sleep good tonight.”

  I need to tell them.

  The guys meander their way to the bar, where we have a beer before closing the bar up, our new tradition. I pour a light lager and we sip for a moment in peace and quiet, enjoying having the bar to ourselves.

  I steel my nerves and face my brothers. “So, the bar is doing well, and I think our cross promos with Outlaws has been successful.”

  “Cheers to that,” Hale says, raising his beer and clinking against ours. We take another swig.

  “I’m leaving,” I say bluntly.

  Axel sputters and puts down his mug. “What?”

  “What the fuck?” Hale says, frowning. “You’re leaving? Where the hell are you going?”

  “San Francisco.”

  There’s silence as that bomb drops.

  “Marissa’s there,” Axel murmurs.

  I blink. “How did you know that?”

  “Because she left a necklace here, and I mailed it to her.”

  “You have her address?” I stand and walk over to him, hand out. “I need it.”

  “The hell you do,” Hale roars. “You need to sit down and talk to us instead of doing this thing you always do. Where you make a decision and just go with it without discussing it. I’m fucking tired of it.” He slams his beer mug on the bar and stands.

  He’s pissed. Furious, even. And underneath all of that is hurt.

  Another brother, betraying them. Running off and leaving the family behind for a woman, the same thing we berated Jamison and Zack about doing to us. But my betrayal is worse, because I’m not just leaving them. I’m leaving Rock Bridge entirely. Moving across the country.

  I move over to stand near them. Speaking quietly, I say, “I can’t stay here for you guys. I love her.”

  Axel won’t look at me. Hale’s teeth are clenched, and I can hear him grinding his molars. As my twin, he is probably hurt that this is coming out of nowhere. That I never shared it with him. We were never as close as we could have been, not once he beefed up and started fighting. But I didn’t really think he’d care about trying to be closer. Maybe he did.

  “You’re the one who keeps this place running,” Axel finally says. “We can’t do this without you.”

  I scoff at the idea. “Hardly. I almost cost us everything—the house, the bar…maybe even our lives. I fucked it all up.”

  “That’s true,” Hale says grudgingly.

  It’s going to take them a while to forgive me for leaving. But this is something I have to do. “I love her,” I repeat. “My place is with her.” I turn to Axel. “I need her address. It’ll save me a lot of time trying to find her. I fucked up with her too, and I have to make things right.”

  He sighs, then grabs his phone and takes a screen shot. My phone dings. It’s a capture of a text between them with her address.

  My heart skips. Fuck. I’m really going to do this. Leave everything and everyone I know to cross the country and pursue the woman I love, convince her to be with me and give me one more chance. It’s the most insane thing I’ve ever done in my life. Which is why I have to do it.r />
  Now that I have her address, I feel like I have to go. Find her. No more waiting. “Do a better job than I did running this place,” I tell them.

  I can see hurt pouring from their eyes, their body language, and it makes me feel guilty. But staying in Rock Bridge for them? It’s not the right decision for me. I need my heart to be whole again. I need to be able to reach out in my sleep and touch her skin. I need to hear her laugh. I need to hear her cry out with her orgasm.

  But more than anything, I need to hear her voice, to be able to tell her what I’m thinking and feeling.

  She’s my everything and I’m done fighting it.

  The guys nod, and I head out the door. Hop in my car and drive home. I’m filled anticipation now. I get home and pack a large bag of clothes and essentials. Fuck it. I don’t need to take a lot of stuff.

  Then I grab my phone and go online to look up flights to San Francisco. There’s one leaving tomorrow morning. I’ll go to the airport and buy a ticket there. I won’t leave until I get one. I only need a one-way anyway.

  It’s hard to sleep, but I make myself calm the fuck down. I’m anxious, nervous, guilty, excited, missing her…I start to push those emotions down, but then stop myself. If I’m going to be worthy of her, I can’t keep blocking those off anymore.

  I have to let her see me. All of me.

  I have to trust.

  It’s like the gods are in my favor. After a friend drops me off—I leave my car at home for my brothers to use how they see fit, signing over the deed to Hale—I walk up to the airline’s ticket counter and manage to snag a one-way ticket to San Francisco. It costs almost all of my cash, but I ignore the fear vibrating through my chest and buy it. Things will work out. She’ll listen to me. God, she has to.

  My flight doesn’t leave for three hours, so I meander around the airport, sipping a coffee, trying not to let my nervous anxiousness take over. I try rehearsing what I’m going to say to her. Except my brain immediately rejects everything with a counterpoint about how I fucked up and how she won’t trust me again.

  I’m torturing myself. I have to knock this weak shit off.

  Finally, fucking finally, we board our flight. It takes off, soaring at hundreds of miles an hour. Bringing me closer to her.

  The flight is painfully long, probably because I’m counting every fucking second that passes. The woman sitting beside me is reading some gossip magazine. I can’t focus enough to read anything.

  We exit, I grab my bag, and I make my way toward Marissa. I take public transportation for part of the ride and a cab for the rest. When we pull up in front of her motel complex, my heart is in my throat, and my palms are sweaty. I wipe them on my jeans and go inside. Wander the hallways until I find which door is hers.

  I’m here.

  I draw in a slow breath. Knock on the door. Wait for a few minutes.

  No one answers.

  Part of me wondered if she’d be around when I arrived. Then another thought comes to mind, one I hadn’t considered before. Fuck, what if she’s no longer living here? How am I going to find her?

  I can’t think about that now. I’m going to sit here and wait and see. The address wasn’t sent that long ago—surely she hasn’t moved out yet.

  I slide to sitting beside the door, cross my legs, and rest my back against the wall.

  “Hudson?”

  A shocked female voice stirs me awake. Shit, I fell asleep waiting. I shake off my grogginess when I realize it’s Marissa, staring down at me, eyes wide, mouth open.

  “What… How did… What are you doing here?” she sputters.

  I stand up and brush off the seat of my pants. “I came to see you.”

  “You flew to San Francisco to see me.” The disbelief in her voice is strong. I guess I can’t blame her for that. She purses her lips. “I…I can’t do this again, Hudson. I’m sorry you wasted your time.” She moves toward the door and opens it.

  I grab my bag and follow, even though I wasn’t invited. I’m too tired to care about manners. When she turns around, she eyes me hard.

  “We need to talk,” I tell her.

  “Where have I heard that before?” she says with a sarcastic laugh. She sits on the couch and kicks off her heels, rubbing her feet. Her eyes are tired, sad. She’s not warm or open to me at all. And it’s my fucking fault.

  I drop my bag on the floor and move toward her. Kneel at her legs and peer up into those endless eyes. “I’m in love with you.”

  Marissa pauses, closes her eyes and breathes for a moment. “Please don’t do this. Just go back home.”

  “Every night since you left, I feel like a piece of me was ripped out. Without you, I’m not living. I’m surviving.” I make myself say the words I’m feeling, even if it’s uncomfortable. She needs my openness, my honesty, and I’m fucking going to give it to her. Every single bit. If she turns me away then…well, I don’t know what I’ll do. But I can’t focus on that.

  Her brow knits, and she looks at me with pained eyes. “You sent me away. But now you’re here, telling me these things. How am I supposed to know that you mean it? That it’ll last?”

  “That’s a fair question.” I sit up on the couch beside her and take her hands. She sits very still, not squeezing them back, but she doesn’t yank them away. I take that as a good sign as I continue my push towards making things right with her. “I left everyone behind to come here and be with you,” I say. “All my belongings. None of that shit mattered once you were gone.” Emotion is choking my throat. Fuck. I swallow and force myself to continue. “You changed me. And I was scared as hell to change. It was easier, safer, to keep myself protected, to not let anyone in.” I look deeply into her eyes, at the confusion and fear and other deep emotions mingling on her face. “And then I met you, and there was no going back to the old me. The person I was incomplete. I didn’t realize I was so unhappy and in the dark until I met you. You made me feel. You brought the sun into my life.”

  Her eyes well up, and she sniffles. Her gaze turns down and away from me, like she’s afraid to show me all of her emotions.

  “I don’t deserve another chance,” I say bluntly. “I fucked up. But I can tell you that life is painful without you. Worse than painful. Without you in my life, there’s no sun, there’s no moon, there’s nothing but darkness. And even if you never give me another chance, the memory of your light would be enough to sustain me—just knowing it even existed, somewhere in this universe. That’s what you mean to me, Marissa.”

  “You…” She sucks in a breath. “You left everyone and everything behind?”

  “I bought a one-way ticket to San Francisco. For you.” I dare to reach up and caress her silky cheek. “Only for you.”

  Her eyes close, and a tear falls. “I’m scared you’ll hurt me again. I couldn’t bear it.”

  “I’d rather cut off my arm than cause you any more pain,” I tell her, wiping the tear from her cheek. “I can’t promise I’m not going to fuck up from time to time. But I can tell you that I’m committed to working this out with you. I’ll do everything in my power to make it right. If you’ll have me.”

  She doesn’t speak, and I sit in awkward silence as time ticks on. She swallows, and then she’s in my arms, and we’re kissing, and that piece that’s been missing clicks in my chest, and my life is right and good again.

  I kiss her like I’m starved for her, like she is my compass showing me true north. I kiss her and I whisper that I love her against her mouth at least a thousand times.

  And she murmurs phrases of love, too, our words mingling together as we devour each other. Far too much time apart. I never want to be apart from Marissa like that ever again.

  I rain kisses across her face, down her throat, and she unbuttons her blouse to grant me access to her beautiful body. “Bed,” is all I can say. My whole body is on fire for her. I need to be inside her immediately.

  I grab her and haul her onto the bed, and she scoots out of her skirt, wearing nothing but her dark p
lum bra and panties. I take my time, caressing the gentle bones of her ankles, thumb stroking her arch, my hands gliding up her calf. I stroke the backs of her knees, and she shudders, her legs falling apart for me.

  My mouth follows my searching fingers, tasting her skin, memorizing it, savoring it. I work up her thighs, squeezing the creamy flesh, and nuzzle her apex. Fuck, she smells so wet that I’m almost dizzy. My dick is screaming to be released, pressing hard against my jeans in an insistent throb. I can hear my pulse pounding in my ears.

  I ignore my own needs. This is about her right now. Making her feel loved. “You’re so fucking incredible,” I murmur as I scatter kisses across her belly button, up her torso to the swell of her breasts. I mouth her nipple through the thin fabric of her bra, and she puckers for me.

  “Oh, God,” she says, burying her hands in my hair. Her back is arching.

  I take her bra and panties off, flinging them to the ground. Then I whip my own clothing off. I can’t wait another second to touch her skin to skin. Lying on top of her is like coming home after a long time away. Our bodies fit so right together.

  “I fucking missed you so much,” I tell her against her throat, licking her clavicle. “I would have lived in San Francisco just to be near you, even if you’d never spoken another word to me again as long as you lived.”

  “I can’t believe you’re here,” she whispers, wonder in her voice. “You want me.”

  Hearing that surprise in her voice guts me. I pull back and look at her, remembering how she felt about being kicked out of her family home. I made her feel that again when I told her to go. Reach my hand up and grip the back of her neck. Squeeze. “I want you with more intensity than I’ve ever wanted anything or anyone in my entire life. I never ever will let you go now that I have you in my arms.”

  My cock is throbbing against her thigh, and I can’t help but rub a little on her. I can feel my precome slicking the flesh between us. She groans.