“Um… do you have a non-alcoholic beer?”
Someone laughs, but the bartender just nods. “Sure thing.” Beast and the others just get regular beer.
“You don’t drink?” Zero asks once we’ve found a booth to hide in. I’m sitting next to him, with Beast and Piston across from us.
I shrug. “Not really. Is that a problem?”
Piston shakes his head. “Nah, my dad was a mean drunk. I’ve got a lot of respect for anyone that steers clear. Just surprised I guess.”
“I…” It’s so hard to tell how much to share. Too little and it opens a hundred questions, too much and people get weird about me trauma dumping. “It’s not really about the alcohol. I got into some trouble when I was seventeen. I was lucky to get a judge who cared enough to send me to a rehab program instead of juvie. When I got out, staying clean was part of the conditions of the program, then I kept it up so my sister didn’t worry. By the time I was twenty-one, drinking felt like a door that didn’t need to get opened if that makes sense. What other people do doesn’t bother me, but I avoid it personally.”
“I fucked up my arm in high school,” Beast says softly. “That was back when they were still giving out the good stuff like candy. Took me a few years and meeting someone who finally gave a shit to help me out of that hole, so yeah, I get it.”
“Is it my turn to share?” Zero takes a drink and shrugs. “Sorry, I patched the void in my wounded young soul by graduating early and working out three hours a day. Booze came later.”
“And yet we’ve all still ended up here.” Piston raises his beer and we all clink our glasses together.
"Aaaanyway. Tell me about this fight that was bad enough the bartender looked ready to run us out of here." I take a sip and watch them over the glass.
Beast laughs. "Was two years ago I think? Someone stirred up trouble between the Eagles and the Outlaw Sons, and a few of our boys took a trip out here to make a point."
“And that point broke a counter?”
“That we paid for,” Zero points out. “But it’s all good these days. Won't say we're buddies, but we help each other out sometimes. One of the old ladies even has a brother in the Sons." At my curious glance, he adds, "Mila. She’s with Reaper, Scrapper and Mack."
“Really?”
"Yep. We helped her get her brother outta jail and blow open some big time city business that had gone rotten. It was all over the news," Piston explains.
"I think I remember that. A judge died or something, right? I was away at school and not really paying attention."
“What were you studying?” Zero asks.
“I thought I wanted to be a vet.”
"But you didn’t?" Beast puts a warm hand on my thigh, not demanding, but I can't help but notice that it's there.
I take a long sip while I think about how to answer that. “Nope. I liked theideaof being a vet, but the whole college experience wasn’t for me.”
“So that’s why you’re working at the rescue?” Zero slips his arm around my waist, resting his rough fingers on the midsection exposed by my shirt. I guess I started it by leaning into him. It feels nice.
"Pretty much, I still want to work with animals. They’re so much easier than people. As long as you love them and take care of them, they think you’re great.”
"So more or less like me," Piston says with a laugh. He clinks his glass with mine.
Beast cocks his head, confused. "Wait. I heard you were going back to school, though?"
“Next topic. I thought the whole reason to drag me out tonight was to even the score, not therapy.”
Zero's grip around my waist tightens. “Even the score?”
“Yeah. You know. Since I’ve kissed Piston and Beast but not you.” I say it half joking, but it’s the not joking part that makes the mood around the table shift.
The bar is packed, but having all the noise and chaos around us makes our dark corner feel like a little bubble of privacy. Zero shifts me from cuddled up against his side, to straddling his lap. There’s barely enough room. The table is pressed against my back and my knees are straddling his hips.
His blue eyes seem bottomless in the dim light. “This isn’t a game. I’m not keeping score.”
Piston was easy to like. It would’ve been harder to not find a big sexy guy carrying an injured puppy attractive. Then when he kept being so damn nice, it just got easier. And Beast slots in seamlessly next to Piston. The depth of their friendship is obvious, even when they’re trash talking in the ring. The two of them feel like a mismatched set. Different, but meant to be together.
