26. Jaykob
Jaykob
If they think the worst of you,
be worse than that.
I swing the door shut on the washing machine and place my tools back in their holsters. It takes longer than I’d like—all I want to do is turn it on and see if it works—but discarding tools just anywhere is how you lose them.
Working at my uncle’s car yard growing up, I saw plenty of sloppy mechanics losing their tools, or treating them so rough they were no good to anyone, and it ain’t like any of us had the cash to just go buy replacements.
You take care of your tools, and they’ll take care of you.
It applies for a wrench or blowtorch as much as it did for my weapons after I enlisted with my brother.
I scowl against the ache in my chest—the one that sucker punches me every time I think about Ryan —and glare at the tumble washer.
I’ve been working on it for two damn weeks and haven’t been able to fix it.
I’m actually regretting the whole month I was “too busy” to look at it.
It was funny when his royal highness was the one spending hours cleaning my socks, but now that it’s Eden . ..
Whatever , it doesn’t matter to me if she scrubs her fingers raw. I’m just usually quicker at fixing this shit, and it’s starting to piss me off.
The guys are on my ass about it too—every one of them grilled me about it this week.
Funny how they all managed to ask about the washing machine and didn’t give me one single word of apology.
Except for Jasper , but since he spent the whole time lecturing me about “not retaliating” and finding “appropriate ways to manage my anger,” I’m not counting it.
I dumped a bucket of engine grease down the back of his fancy shirt.
That seemed to manage my anger pretty good.
Screw them all, anyway. One day I’m beating up on big-eyed librarians, and the next I’m their fix-it guy again? They’re lucky I didn’t torch the stupid Playboy mansion from under them.
It’s not like any of them offered to help, either.
She did, though.
Tools secured, I turn back and hold my breath, hovering over the switch. If this doesn’t do it... I flick the switch to “ ON ” and wait for the telltale lighting up of the small screen.
Nothing .
“ Useless goddamned junk !” Frustration spills over, and I kick the broken thing hard, denting the metal door. A dent that I’m also going to have to fix. “ No good to anyone .”
I yank my wrench out of my side pocket, not sure if I want to go back in or just start beating on it. “ Stupid son of a—”
“ Hey , I’m sure the machine’s mama was a nice lady.”
My head drops back. I clench my teeth together and count to ten in my head. Don’t bash his head in. It ain’t worth the wrench.
“ You know, likes a tumble, always wet.”
I up my counting to twenty. Shouldn’t have left my pistol in my room.
“ Plus , she could probably take a real big lo—”
“ Get out.” I yank the dented door open and get back down.
Lucky laughs, ignoring me as per fucking usual.
He crouches down beside me, blocking my light. “ Is it working yet?”
I shove him back so he overbalances. The light clears up, and I grunt in satisfaction. I put away the wrench and reach for the screwdrivers; I need to take the panel back out.
“ Guess that’s a no, huh?”
The panel’s sticking and it takes a yank to pull it out.
“ Not in a talking mood? That’s cool. We don’t need to talk. People talk too much, is what I always say. Talk about nothing really, just on and on and on...”
My grip on the screwdriver tightens, and I imagine it plunging into his neck. It’s long enough—could probably get him right through the voice box.
“ And on and on...”
“ Don’t you have somewhere better to be?”
“ Not really. Drying shed’s stocked. Eden’s hanging out with Jasper today.” He grimaces and looks at the ground. “ She wanted to smooth things over with him, I guess.”
Of course she’s with Jasper .
What would those two have to argue about? Whether caviar tastes better with crackers, or just on the tiny little silver spoons they were born with?
My mood sours further as I stare at the coils of wires I’ve been looking at for weeks. His highness is exactly who a princess like her would get all wet over, with his fancy books and fancy hair and degrees . The kind of guy who said things like “existential” and “grandiloquent.”
I catch sight of my greasy fingers and scowl. Pulling out of the machine, I slam the door shut again, not bothering to re-secure the panel. What’s the point? The damn thing’s broken beyond fixing. Better to just get it out of here.
Lucky stares at me from where he’s still sprawled where I shoved him.
“ Why don’t you go run off and play with them?”
They’d probably love that. Most annoying shit on the planet but everyone just loves Lucky . Ryan was like that. Probably the only reason I haven’t actually beaten his head in yet.
Lucky’s mouth twists in a way I’m used to seeing in the mirror. “ Nah , I’m good.”
My scowl deepens as I stare at him. I don’t do the touchy-feely shit.
“ She told me she was spending the day with you,” I tell him, not really sure why.
She’d come in all pretty and pink-cheeked from the morning frost. Some idiotic thing in my head thought she was coming back to work in here with me. But that really was stupid. That day was a one off. She was hiding from Dom and needed the big bad monster to protect her.
If she really wanted to hang out, she wouldn’t come to me.
This morning, she dropped off some breakfast and said she was spending the day out in the sunshine with the circus rat. And that just made sense. She doesn’t fit in this grubby, dark place. Matter of fact, I’m starting to think I don’t much fit in this place either.
“ She did?” Lucky sits up and wraps his arms around his knees, an odd expression on his face. “ Guess she changed her mind.”
“ Yeah , well, at least you made the shortlist,” I mutter, resentment clogging my throat.
Lucky blinks, and his brows shoot up. I bite my tongue with another scowl and turn around, packing away my tools again. My mouth is running on stupid today, apparently.
“ Whatever . We can have just as much fun!” Lucky insists with mind-numbing brightness.
“ Fuck off.”
He jumps up so he’s sitting on the workbench beside me. His ass is on my favorite rag. “ Come on, you’ve got to be sick of being in here all day. Come spar with me. I’m rusty.”
I tug at the rag. “ I’ll kill you.”
“ You try to kill me, I try to kill you—what are friends for, anyway?”
He lifts one cheek off the rag and does some wide, pleading thing with his eyes. I yank the rag out from under him with a grunt. “ We’re not friends.”
Lucky presses one hand to his chest. “ Well , now you’re just being mean.”
“ Move .”
“ No .”
I glare at him. “ Get . Out .”
He examines his nails. “ Nah .”
“ For fuck’s sake,” I explode. “ We are not friends.”
Shoving away from the work bench, I stare around the barn, not sure what to do next. The uncomfortable ache I’ve had in my chest the past few weeks turns hot. I’ll raid the doc’s supplies later.
It’s probably heartburn.
I pull Ryan’s old pocketknife out of my side pocket, then start flipping it between my fingers—but I’ve never been able to nail the tricks the way he used to do.
“ You think I don’t know I’m just some guy in the same regiment that just happened to be around when it all went to shit?
” I scoff. “ I don’t care . You’re all slumber buddies who like to braid each other’s hair or whatever, that’s fine.
Whatever gets you hard. But leave. Me . The . Fuck . Alone .”
The outburst feels good. They always do. But underneath that is a sick, gnawing feeling in my gut. There’ve been a lot of different run-ins with the guys over the years. It’s always been pretty clear I’m the ugly duck of the heroic little swan crew.
Heather was the first one who made me seriously think about leaving, but it didn’t get much better after she left. The shit the other day, realizing just what kind of person they really think I am... that’s got to be the end of it. I don’t belong here—and they don’t want me here. Not really.
And as for her... well, whatever. She’s just the latest girl around. She’ll choose one of them, and there ain’t a speck of doubt in my mind that I’m not making that shortlist either.
I realize I’m towering over Lucky . Wide eyed, he stares at me. “ For the record, I braid my own hair. Beau’s the only one with any skill at all, and he pretty much always refuses to help me.”
My fists lift of their own accord and it’s fifty-fifty whether I’m going to strangle him or chuck him out on his ass.
Lucky grins, lifting his own hands defensively. “ No , Jayk ! Dom already took my lunch money this week!”
I grab him by his shirt and drag him off the bench.
“ I’m sorry. I’m sorry!” he says, laughing. “ Dude , chill, I love this shirt. I’ll stop, I’ll stop!”
Huffing out a breath, I glare down at him. His dimple winks at me and, rolling my eyes to the ceiling, I let him go.
His smile changes in a way that makes me uncomfortable, and I’m just about to throw him out again when he says, “ Look , just for the record? I never thought of you as just some guy who happened to be there. And I get that I drive you nuts and you’re a grouchy bastard, but I like having you around. ”
He eyes my head. “ And I would totally braid your hair too if you grew it out.” His gaze drops down my body, and he grimaces. “ I’m not braiding it anywhere else, though. I don’t care who you are, manscaping is important.”
I shove him toward the door again. “ I manscape, dickhead.”
“ You manscape your dick head? Wow , you should talk to Beau about that. Pretty sure you’re not meant to have hair there.”