The Beckett Boys- The Complete Series Box Set

by Olivia Chase

  I let my body relax against his. There’s a sincerity in his words that asks me to believe him. He really sounds happy this way.

  “You’re sure?”

  Hale kisses the side of my neck. “When it comes to you, I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

  Hale

  “Order up!” Axel hollers, slapping the skinny paper down on the counter.

  I frown at him. “You fucking love giving me orders, don’t you.”

  His grin is answer enough. “I guess I do. I rarely get the opportunity.”

  Our grill cook is out sick, so I’m filling in. Axel has taken advantage of that by barking orders as often as he can. Wanker. It’s taken all of my effort to remain patient today and not just punch him in his face.

  But this is the new Hale. The one who responds without violence. It’s taken me long enough to get here. I’m not gonna let my half brother’s antics get to me.

  I focus on grilling up the burgers, getting orders ready. We just opened up for lunch last week, so this is a new experience for all of us—having a successful lunch opening. I’m whipping up sandwiches and burgers as fast as I can.

  And it feels fucking good.

  It’s been two months since I went to the police, since I managed to get Phoebe back in my life. Part of me is tempted to fear that something will somehow go wrong, but I know I’ll never do that again.

  I’ll never let fear rule my life, especially not when it comes to her.

  And I’ve never fucking felt this way before. Never had the passion, the vulnerability, the depth I’ve experienced with Phoebe. She brings out a part of me I didn’t even know existed. We pretty much spend every night together, either at her place or mine.

  But I want more.

  I want every night.

  I focus on fulfilling orders as Axel tosses them back to me. Burgers, wraps, quesadillas. I make them without complaints. This is what I wanted for us. When I talked to Smith about my idea, he was hesitant at first, but he quickly agreed after I outlined my specific ideas for him.

  It’s worked out great.

  Our bars/restaurants are working together instead of fighting each other. And now Butch is back in jail and not disrupting us. Smith never said anything to me, but I know he guessed it was my father who attacked him. I’m not sure if he suspects I’m the one who turned him in. And frankly, it doesn’t matter. The fewer people I confess that to, the better.

  I know Phoebe will keep it a secret.

  I give Axel the order I was preparing and look through the window to see Phoebe and her parents entering the restaurant. My heart is kicking so hard that I’m sure anyone close to me could hear it.

  Yes, she and I have been seeing a lot of each other, but I haven’t talked to her adoptive parents since the night of the fatal dinner party. Will they forgive me for that? I have no idea. I just have to hope so, once they see the change in me. I’m not the angsty, hotheaded douchebag they met that night.

  I step out from behind the back and come to greet Phoebe. I know she’s on her lunch break from her new job, in the same industry but with a different boss. She seems to be much happier now.

  “Hey!” she cries out and stands up to hug me. “How are things?”

  I smile against her neck. There’s nothing like the feeling of the woman I love against my body, her warmth absorbing me and welcoming me. “Good. You?

  Phoebe pulls back and looks at her parents. “Good. We decided to come here for lunch.”

  I can see them staring hard at me. I don’t know what to say. I fucked up the last time I saw them. Big time. So I square myself and stare at Will, Dana. “Good to see you two again. I’m sorry about the previous circumstances we met under, but I can promise you, I’m not ever going to put you two of Phoebe in that kind of situation ever again.”

  They eye me for a moment, and then Dana nods. She’s still a little hesitant, but I can understand. I have to earn their respect. And I love Phoebe enough to do so.

  I leave them to finish their lunches. Focus on my work. When I peek out and see the three of them standing up, I go back to their table. My heart is pulsing so hard that I might vomit.

  “Hey,” I tell Phoebe. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

  She nods. “Sure.”

  We head into the office. She stands there and looks at me as I pace the room for a few seconds.

  “Everything okay?” she asks. I can hear the thread of tension in her voice.

  I stiffen and turn back to her. Take her chilly hands. “It’s fine.” I squeeze the digits to draw more warmth to them. Is she as nervous as I am?

  I look deep into Phoebe’s eyes. The warm eyes I’ve fallen in love with. The eyes that have won me over. Made me change the man I am to be worthy of her. There is so much inside me now that I can barely contain it. My heart is exploding

  “Phoebe,” I manage to whisper.

  “Yes?” She’s squeezing my fingers back not sure where this is going.

  “I love you,” I say.

  I can see her body melt with my words. “I love you too,” she whispers.

  “But…I want more.” I pull her flush to me. Savor the feeling of her curves pressed against mine. This woman drives me mad, makes me crave things I’ve never wanted before. I need her. Desperately. Does she need me too? My pulse is racing in my veins. “I want to marry you,” I finally say.

  Phoebe grows still. Doesn’t look at me for a long moment, during which I’m pretty sure my heart starts to shrivel and die in panic. Then she looks up at me, wide-eyed. “That’s..a big commitment. Are you even sure you’re ready for that?”

  “Sweetness.” I cup her face, her beautiful face. “There is no one else I could possibly want more than you. And the thought of making you my wife…” I grin. “I could only be so lucky.”

  Phoebe looks at me, tears in her eyes. “Oh God.”

  “Say yes,” I find myself whispering against her mouth.

  “Yes,” she says, and then I take her lips as mine, and I draw her into me. Taste her, savor her, love her. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before. This woman has changed me, ruined me in the best ways.

  What would my life be like if I hadn’t met her? I don’t even want to think about it.

  Phoebe gives me a soft kiss on my cheek. “I love you,” she whispers.

  “I’ll see you tonight?” I need to see my fiancée, to reinforce that she is mine, all mine. And that I’m hers.

  Her hand touches my jaw. “Yes,” she whispers, pressing a kiss to my chin. “See you later?” she asks.

  “Yes.” I give her another hot, searing kiss before she leaves Fugitives.

  I’m going to buy her an engagement ring this evening, once I’m off work. I’m going to make her officially mine.

  I grab my phone and start a group text with my brothers. Hey, so surprise. I’m engaged. Phoebe Harris. She’s amazing, and she makes me happy.

  A minute later, my phone buzzes with a text from my twin, Hudson. WHO ARE YOU AND WHAT DID YOU DO WITH MY BROTHER?

  I laugh and reply, She changed me. A few seconds after that, a second message pops up from him. Congrats. I can’t wait to meet her. Sounds like you are happy.

  I write back, I am. You would love her. Then I stuff my phone in my pocket. I need to talk to Axel about this too.

  I find him at the front of the bar, serving beers. When he has a spare moment from customers bugging him for a refill, I say, “So, I have some news I wanted to share. I’m engaged. To Phoebe.”

  Axel spins to look at me, and I can see the questions, the concern in his eyes. “Well. That’s unexpected.” His words are cooler than I would have liked.

  I find my lips thinning as I say, “Well, that’s a warm congratulations.” Not. Axel seems like he doesn’t give a shit about it. Yeah, I know he’s probably skeptical, given what our older brothers went through, but I’m still here, and I’m not abandoning him or the bar. We’re still in it together. I figured he’d be ha
ppy with that.

  He shakes his head. Smiles. It doesn’t reach his eyes. “Of course. I offer you the best wishes on your marriage.”

  There’s nothing in his body language that shows that he means it. His face is a smooth mask of disinterest. I might as well have said I picked up lunchmeat, as opposed to proposing to the woman I love. Makes my chest tight, but I shove it down.

  Admittedly, I’m irritated and disappointed in his lack of enthusiasm. But I know this has to be hard for him. I gotta shake this off. After all, my life is going amazingly now that I’ve stopped being under Butch’s thumb. And it’ll be a long time before he’s released from prison, which is the best for us all.

  “Best to you,” Axel finally says. His voice is flat, and I can tell he doesn’t quite mean it. But I can’t let myself worry about that now. I have a future to think about. Phoebe. Our lives entwining together.

  The thought bolsters me as I move behind the bar and back into the kitchen, toward the grill. I love this woman. We’re going to have a good future together. Supporting each other.

  And I sure as fuck am not going to let anything deter me from that.

  Later that night, I get down on one knee and present Phoebe with the diamond engagement ring I bought her earlier in the day.

  She’s crying and I can’t say my eyes are completely dry either.

  As I slip the ring on her finger, I feel something loosen in my chest. I feel like a billion pounds of pressure have been lifted from me.

  I feel light as air.

  This is the woman I’m going to spend the rest of my life with.

  “God damn, woman, I love you so fucking much,” I whisper, standing and pulling her close to me.

  “I love you too, Hale. You’re my everything.”

  Hearing those words from a woman as amazing as her, gives me strength. I know that I will do anything to be worthy of that gift she’s given me.

  Feeling her body against mine is as magical as the first time we touched, that very first spontaneous kiss I have her after my boxing match.

  How did I ever get so lucky as to deserve this—to deserve her?

  I don’t know. I’ll never know. I only think that it’s my duty to make sure she feels taken care of for every single second of the rest of her life.

  And I can’t wait to begin.

  Epilogue

  Axel

  I crack open a beer and stare at the blank-screened TV, which is shut off. It’s after two AM, and the bar is closed for the night. The house is dark, and no one is here but me. Hale moved out last week to live with his fiancé, Phoebe. And since my father was thrown back in jail, it’s just me here.

  Alone.

  Drunk.

  Full of rage and despair.

  I know my brothers didn’t care about me as much as they cared about each other. I was never one of them. Always the half-brother standing on the outside, never part of their circle. Desperate to be loved and accepted and always falling short, despite all my efforts to fit in, to be one of them.

  It’s not hard to see that women are the cause of all the problems that have beset our family. Fuck them. I shift on the couch and prop my feet up on the battered coffee table. I won’t do anything else with my life than fuck and drink and be carefree. I’ll carry the Beckett tradition forward so that the wildness of our family isn’t lost forever.

  I know I’m not the one people would have expected to carry on family tradition, to care about the family name, but I take it seriously.

  Fuck my brothers. I’ll carry the torch alone, all by myself. I won’t settle down like my brothers or my cousins. I’ll be a one-man drinking, fucking, and fighting army.

  I take a deep swig of my beer. Drop my head back on the couch cushion and let the alcohol seep into me. I don’t want to think about how empty life feels now that I live alone here in this house where I didn’t even grow up.

  With a laugh, I tip my beer and toast the ghost of my brothers.

  I’m going to prove to everyone, to myself, that I’m a Beckett through and through.

  Things are going to get a little fucking crazy around here, I decide. I’m bringing the glory back to the Beckett name in Rock Bridge.

  And I, for one, can’t goddamn wait to start.

  THE END

  AXEL (The Beckett Boys, Book Eight) by Olivia Chase

  Axel

  “Axel, hurry up with that order,” Hale barks at me from the behind the bar. He waves a meaty hand toward a nearby table, his green eyes narrowed in my direction. The irritation coming from him is palpable. “They’ve been waiting to get their app for way too long,” he informs me.

  I grit my teeth and fight the surge of frustration that wells in my chest. Fucking Hale. It’s the bitter mantra I’ve repeated over and over again the past couple of months since he, the last of my brothers, fell sick to the illness of love and forgot who they were.

  I haven’t forgotten, though.

  I’m still a Beckett, even if I’ve never been given due credit. Yeah, I’m only half-Beckett, but lately that’s a hell of a lot more than I can say for my brothers.

  I grew up worshipping them and now it’s like I don’t even know who they are.

  I shoulder the tray of food and weave my way through the tables toward the one in question. The black-haired dude with his back to the wall, an asshole with a popped collar, eyes me with derision. He or his kind wouldn’t have been let anywhere near this bar when we first opened it. Even our business, Fugitives, has changed since we turned it into a full-fledged restaurant and left the boozy portion to our cousins across the street, who run Outlaws.

  Nothing is the same anymore. Nothing except me. The one left behind to deal with the ramifications of it all.

  “Can we get more ketchup?” the basic blonde beside him says, holding up the bottle and waving it in my face. She’s a cookie cutter of several of the other girls sitting at the table with them. “There’s, like, almost none in here, and I can’t possibly eat these fries without it.”

  “No, of course you couldn’t,” I say with a mock gasp, grabbing the bottle. I’m about ten seconds from snapping…I can feel it building in my chest, that unwavering anger that’s lodged deep in there. It’s going to erupt, and soon.

  Dudebro’s brow furrows. “Hey, buddy. Lose the attitude. And go fetch that ketchup.”

  I want to smash his entitled, stuck up face.

  But I turn and walk away, as I hear the table snicker behind me.

  I know the real source of my hostility. It’s the man behind the bar, not these customers. So I leave the table and replace their almost-empty ketchup in stony silence, then head toward the back to go roll more fucking silverware into fucking paper napkins.

  This is my life now, why I exist. I work like a dog for someone who doesn’t give two shits about me, or carrying on the family name, the family tradition. Not that any of my half-brothers cared that much about me in the first place. But they used to honor and uphold the Beckett principles. One by one though, they all went down. Enslaved themselves to women. Lost their way.

  But Hale…I was certain he wouldn’t fall like the rest of them. Until he met his fiancé and lost himself.

  The restaurant is crowded—a typical Saturday afternoon for us now. I steal another look around, remembering for a moment the pride I had when Hudson, Hale, and I first started this joint. The three of us were equals, living like kings and raking in the cash.

  We were supposed to be hard core, a real down and dirty dive bar for people like us.

  Instead, we turned soft and went for the easy cash of playing it safe.

  Hell, Hudson quit the family business entirely and moved to San Francisco. And then Hale met a woman and became docile, weak.

  I don’t even recognize the man anymore. The guy who used to punch first, ask questions later is so different now. It’s fucking eerie, to be honest. His hotheaded passion made me believe in him, spurred me to follow him and rally by his side.

  Now, ironical
ly, I’m the last Beckett standing. The bastard son at that, the illegitimate heir. The sole resident of the Beckett home. Keeping the neighborhood safe from the assholes threatening to encroach on our people. Trying to figure out how the hell I can keep doing this by myself.

  I didn’t sign up for this shit.

  What am I doing here? Really doing here? Is this where I want my life to go?

  No. No, it isn’t. Fuck this.

  I drop the silverware I’m rolling into the bin and instead grab a beer from the fridge, popping it open. Though we don’t have hard liquor around anymore, due to not wanting to compete with Outlaws (my cousins’ bar across the street) per our agreement with them, we still provide beer and wine for customers who want a light drink with their meals. The cool swallow of beer glides down my throat.

  “The fuck are you doing, Axel?” Hale says in a low murmur meant to warn me to knock it off. “Put the beer down and get back to work. This ain’t your lunch break. Still got a lot of shit to do—”

  “Don’t care,” I reply. “I’m done being your little bitch boy.”

  His eyes grow dark as he glares at me, and he tosses the dish rag he was gripping down on the bar. “Get in the back. Now.” The words are growled out.

  I’m tempted to dish it out with him right here, to let everyone in the restaurant know how fucked up everything is in our lives and how I’m tired of following his orders. But instead, I grab the beer as I head to the back office. The only reason I’m not having it out in public is because I still have my own sense of pride and dignity.

  I lean my backside against the desk and stare at Hale flatly. Silence fills the space as I take another long draw on my beer, not dropping eye contact.

  Shit’s been brewing between us for a while now, things unspoken that just keep festering. When he dropped the bomb that he was engaged to Phoebe, I know he was pissed I wasn’t excited for him. Excited over what? To watch another Beckett man fall victim to a bleeding heart?