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The barest twitch of his cheek. "I fuckin' kissed the girl, Digger."
31
TYKE
Digger blinks,choosing to look at the table between us as he twists his chin to one side. "Fuck's sake, Tyke."
It's there in the stiffness of his shoulders.In the repetitive lick of his lips. The way he glances at the ceiling, then the floor.
He's spitting mad.
"I didn't force anything on her." Fuck knows why I feel the need to explain myself, but there’s a reason why he's so damn angry at me over it. "She fuckin' wanted more, but I put a stop to it." I need him to admit it.
"Oh, well, that just makes things so much better." He jerks his chin around, spearing me with his angry gaze. "She's your fuckin' daughter's friend, Tyke."
"Shit, is she?" I snap, lifting an eyebrow. "Like I didn't know that, you fuckin' tool."
"Fuck you." Digger shoves the base of the bottle of Jack toward me, the glass making a loud scrape as it slides across the table. "Maybe youshouldfinish off the bottle. Might make you less of an asshole."
"Who's the fuckin' asshole?" I roar. Several of the lingering frat boys turn their heads from their spots at the bar. "What thefuck you dick-suckin' babies starin' at?" They return to nursing their drinks, the rest of their comrades seemingly gone after Sampson's intervention. I square my gaze on my little brother. "You rather I lied to you about it? That it?"
"I'd rather you didn't fuckin' do it to start with."
His nostrils flare, jaw working a knot on one side. I lean back, arms folded, andreallystudy my little brother. "You're fuckin' jealous."
Heat fills his glare. "Get fucked."
"No." I jab a finger toward him. "Fuck you." I may be drunk, but I still recognize his pouty little tantrums when they erupt over him not getting what he wants. "You into that too, huh?" My lips tuck up on one side. "Been beaten' yourself up over the same thing, I bet. That she's Maddie's girl. Too young. Too messed up."
"She ain't messed up," he bites dangerously level. "She's been treated bad. What do you expect her to be like after that, huh? Fucking swingin’ from the rafters, gigglin’ her tits off? Of course, she's shaken." He lowers his tone to add, "Scared."
He goddamn cares about our little houseguest. Cares a darn sight more about her than I've seen him give a shit over anything in a long while. "What we gonna do about her, then?"
Dig regards me for a long while, one eye twitching as he asks, "You want to kick her out?"
"Fuck no." She's far too valuable for that. Even setting aside what she knows about Terry. "I mean with you and me, brother." I gesture between us. "We makin’ a pact right here, right now, that neither of us is going to go after that? Are we goin' to be gentlemen about this?”
"Ain't no gentle men here," he muses.
I draw a deep breath and nod. "Guess there ain't."
He dares a look at me, hope in the dark flecks of his forest eyes. "I can't make that promise, Tyke. I just can't." He shrugs."You going to tell me that you'd swear off her right here and now, even if she ends up staying with us in the long term? Who says things won't change in a year? Three?"
"She'll still be eighteen years my junior and eleven yours."
He looks away again, jaw flexing with each aggravated chew of the side of his tongue. A habit he brought back from service. His way of dispelling the building anger inside.
I never wanted this life for him. Weston's heart was always too kind, his intentions too pure. He's made for helping and healing, which is what my end mission is for the club—sure. But he's not made for the darker side of life on the wrong side of the law. He takes each beating, each kill, to heart. Each one burdening his already heavy shoulders further.
"You can still walk away, you know." I cap the near-empty bottle of Jack. "Start over somewhere else. Away from this."
"That's your solution, huh?" He narrows his gaze. "Get rid of me, so she's all yours for sure?"
"Jesus." I grimace, pulling my head back. "The offer has nothin’ to do with Rae." Saying her name in this shithole seems filthy. Disrespectful. "You could be happier somewhere else, Weston."
"So could you, Tyke." He meets my eye, refusing to back down.
“Yeah? Well, I ain’t.” I glance toward Sampson, finding him refilling Jacob. An old farmer that's been as regular here as the full moon rising since I was knee-high to a grasshopper. I glance toward the lack of whiskey in the bottle before me and then back to him.I don't want to be that guy."Can we head home, then?"
