AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“No, it’s not okay.” He jabs a finger at me. “You’re all broken up over a chick you don’t even know. Seriously, man? Come have a beer with your bros. It won’t hurt, I swear.”
That’s how I find myself nodding sheepishly and following Seth out of Damage Control, because he might be intense and in-your-face, but this time he’s damn right. I need to leave this girl alone, whoever she is, get my head out of my ass and spend some time with my brothers. They have my back, and I’ve got a lot more in common with them than with a hazy memory.
We share nightmares and night terrors. We share a damn shitty past and a frail present, with a sliver of hope for a future. And that sliver is like glue, holding our pieces together. Tying us in an inescapable bond.
The bar isn’t far from Damage Control, just a few streets down. The sign flashes over the entrance, the word HALO inside—what else?—a yellow halo of blinking lights.
How fucking original.
At least the inside is more somber and run-of-the-mill. Black stools at the bar, low tables and chairs. Beer logos are projected on the far wall, changing colors, but otherwise, the lights are dim.
Someone shouts our names, and we make our way in the half-darkness. The flashes illuminate faces, bodies, gestures as we walk by the tables lining the wall. We reach the bar, and Ocean gets up from his stool and clasps hands with Seth. He lifts his brows when he sees me.
“I’ll be damned. Look what the cat dragged in.” Ocean grins and grips my hand in a bone-crushing grip, pulling me toward him and clapping me on the back. “Glad you made it, buddy.”
I frown, trying to pull away, but then the others gather around us—Shane and Jesse, raising their beer bottles in my direction.
In fact, Jesse presses a chilled bottle into my hand, and I take it. He pumps fists with me, and his clear green eyes crinkle at the corners as he grins widely. He’s the result of an awesome gene cocktail. Though his eyes are green, his skin is like coffee with milk, and his smile is so white it’s blinding. Chicks dig it a lot.
When I glance around, I find Seth’s gaze on me. He looks amused. Well, as amused as Seth can possibly look, his thick arms folded over his chest, dark hair hiding his face—but I can tell because he snorts softly and shakes his shaggy head.
“Haven’t seen you at the gym lately,” Jesse says, dragging me to the bar and gesturing at a free stool. “Rafe was asking about you.”
Damn. I’ve been so obsessed with seeing the girl across the street, with speaking to her and finding out if she’s Ev, I stopped all other activity.
“Have you been okay?” Jesse gives me a long look, and I shrug.
“Fine.” On most days I’m okay. The after effects of the disease linger, but I’m getting better.
“Awesome.” Shane takes the stool next to mine and gulps down half his beer. His long black hair is caught at the nape. Silver hoops decorate his ears, from which metal tribal feathers and a small dreamcatcher dangle. “Can’t wait for you to return to the gym, so I get to push your face into the dirt.”
“You wish, asshole.” Rafe has been teaching us self-defense and kickboxing. His friend, Asher, drops by sometimes and helps train us.
“Maybe he’s not done running after skirts,” Shane mutters, deliberately looking at the far wall and tipping up his bottle.
“A specific skirt.” Jesse winks.
Motherfucker. “Shut up.” I scowl at my beer. “It’s not like that.”
“Oooh, I’m scared.” Shane gives a theatrical shiver. “What will Micah do to me if I don’t shut it? My knees are knocking together.”
“Don’t mind Shane. He’s just desperate for pussy,” Seth says from somewhere behind me. “He got carpal tunnel syndrome from wanking off every night.”
Shane growls and gives him the finger.
Jesse chuckles. “Yeah. At least you’re into a real chick, man, not bad porn.”
“I’m not into anyone,” I snap, a bit too loud, and push my beer on the counter. “Cut it out, suckers.”
“Now you’re telling us what we can or can’t say?” Shane fairly snarls at me.
“And if I am?” My fists itch. Maybe a good brawl might take out some of the tension I can feel in my shoulders. “Got a problem with that, asshole?”
This was a motherfucking bad idea. What I want is to stop thinking about her, and they won’t give me a moment’s peace, goddammit.
Especially when Shane curls his lip and says, “Maybe I should go check out this chick that’s got you all twisted up in knots. Say hi.”
Before I realize what I’m doing, I’m on my feet and in Shane’s face, a fistful of his black t-shirt bunched up in my hand. “Back the fuck off, do you hear me? Don’t even think about talking to her. Fucker.”
