Page 61 of Billionaire Bad Boy Auction

DEAN

I stood in my shop, hands braced on my workbench, staring at the damn article everyone had been blowing up my phone about. The headline screamed at me in bold letters: “Local Hero or Local Heartthrob? Dean Jackson Stuns in Fireworks Rescue—But Who Really Stole the Show?”

I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was going to be a problem. It was why I avoided town like the plague. I didn’t go out because this was the shit I had to put up with. People around town were usually perfectly happy to ignore me. Until they could make money off me.

The last thing I wanted was attention. Especially when half the town was now convinced I was some kind of hometown hero. The article made it sound like I’d leapt into the flames with a cape and a monologue. And the part about Portia?

I dragged a hand down my face. Portia had just gotten her name out of the papers and now fucking Lila was putting her right back in. I knew how much I hated it. I couldn’t imagine what Portia was thinking. The woman just wanted peace. Why wouldn’t they let her have peace?

Not they—she.

The shop door swung open and in walked Seth. He was about the last asshole I wanted to see.

“You’re not welcome here,” I said.

Seth paused in the doorway, clearly debating whether or not to play this off. But he must’ve seen something different in my expression because his smirk faded.

“Come on, man,” Seth said, shoving his hands in his pockets. “You’re really cutting me off over this?”

I leveled him with a hard stare. “A kid almost got killed because of you. And you don’t even give a shit.”

Seth exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. “I didn’t mean for that to happen. It was just⁠—”

“Just what?” My voice was quiet, lethal. “Just fun? Just a joke? Well your jokes aren’t funny and neither are you.”

Seth shifted on his feet, frustration flashing across his face. “I screwed up. I get it. But don’t pretend like you’ve never⁠—”

“You don’t get it,” I cut in. “You never have. And I’m done trying to make you.”

Seth’s jaw tightened. “So that’s it?”

I nodded. “That’s it.”

I stared at Seth, the tension in the shop thick enough to choke on. The weight of everything I’d been holding back for years pressed against my chest. I couldn’t keep it in any longer.

My voice had an edge that could slice steel. “You think everything’s a game, Seth. Every damn thing. Do you even remember what happened when you crashed Dad’s truck? Or when you blew through the money I gave you? You just came back for more. And then more after that. I keep thinking I’m helping you, but I’ve realized it’s not about helping you. I’m enabling you.”

Seth rolled his eyes, but his shoulders stiffened. “Ancient history, Dean. You gonna keep throwing that in my face?”

“Ancient history?” I barked a bitter laugh. “You think it’s ancient history? That money was supposed to be your future. It was supposed to give you a start, a chance to build something. But no, you blew it on parties, cars, and God knows what else.”

“So what?” Seth shot back, his voice rising. “It’s not like you don’t have enough money.”

I slammed my hand down on the workbench, the sound echoing through the shop like a gunshot. Seth flinched, his bravado cracking for just a second. “It’s not about the money. It’s about responsibility. About consequences. About being something more than a screw-up who mooches off everyone around him.”

Seth’s face twisted, anger and hurt warring in his expression. “You think I’m just some leech? Some dead weight you can cut loose whenever you feel like it?”

“I think you’re my brother,” I said, the words heavy with frustration. “And I’ve spent my whole life trying to keep you from crashing and burning. But I can’t keep doing it, Seth. Not when you’re dragging other people down with you. You could have killed that little boy, Seth. Do you understand that? Your stupidity isn’t just about you.”

He stared at me, his jaw working like he wanted to argue but couldn’t find the words. Finally, he shook his head and let out a bitter laugh. “Fine. You want me gone? I’ll go. But don’t act like this is all on me, Dean. You’re not exactly Mr. Perfect either.”

I didn’t respond. There wasn’t anything left to say. Seth turned on his heel and stalked out of the shop, the door slamming shut behind him. The silence that followed was deafening.

I stood there for a long moment, my hands clenched into fists at my sides. My chest felt tight, like someone had wrapped a chain around it and pulled until I couldn’t breathe. For the first time in years, I wondered if I was finally doing the right thing.

Even if it didn’t feel like it.

I thought about calling Portia and asking if she was okay. But that was only going to add more fuel to the stupid fire. It was better if I let that go. There was no point in trying to pursue anything with her. Plus, I doubted she was interested in hitching her wagon to the brother of the guy that nearly killed a kid. I had money, but I was still a Jackson. That was not the kind of thing a guy could just get away from. I knew there were plenty of opportunities for me elsewhere. I didn’t have to stay in Larkspur Lake. I could go where people didn’t know who I was.