I was lucky to have Aiden in my life. My mom had basically been out of the picture since she’d remarried. She’d been a victim of my stepdad’s abuse, and when she finally got out, she didn’t look back—not even for her sons.
Aiden had written letters and visited me every weekend until I insisted he focus on school and not me. He’d finally relented to visiting once a month.
But I’d never been alone. Not like some of these guys. I always knew I’d have my brother when I got out. If not for Matteo and the Redemption Road program, I’d have moved straight to Maple Grove to be near Thurston University.
I didn’t want to be a distraction to Aiden, though. Not when he was so close to entering residency.
Thoughts of Thurston made me think again of Bailey. That and he was difficult to ignore while bending over the pool table, his lean body strong and graceful. There was an intensity to his face that I recognized. He got that same look when he was diagnosing a tricky mechanical problem.
His hair fell over his forehead, shielding his light blue eyes from view, but I already knew they were stunning. He drew the pool cue back, gliding it through his fingers, and damn, that shouldn’t be so hot.
I shifted a little.
Hollywood leaned in. “I didn’t know you were such a fan of pool.”
“Or pool players,” Knight said in a teasing tone.
Busted.
I cleared my throat. “Oh, I’m not. That’s Bailey Steele. He’s one of the Forrester brothers.”
It sounded weird to say it that way, but everyone in town knew them as the Forresters because of their former foster parents, even though they all had different last names.
“Bailey’s the young one?” Hollywood asked.
“He’s theprettyone,” Tex said. “Kinda like you, Hollywood. He’s gotstarquality.”
Hollywood scowled. “I hate this stupid nickname. I’m a badass.”
Everyone laughed at that. I breathed easier since they were less focused on me. Most of them, anyway.
Knight nudged me. “He’s not hard on the eyes, huh?”
My neck heated. “That’s not why I’m watching him.”
There was more razzing, but I didn’t hear it. Bailey’s opponent threw his pool cue on the table, face turning red.
“Fuck you!” he shouted loud enough to reach the table. “You smug little pissant!”
“Oh, shit,” I muttered, my excuse for watching Bailey suddenly a legitimate one.
Bailey held up his hands, talking animatedly, but there was a sharp grin that told me he wasn’t exactly calming the asshole down.
I jumped from my chair, shoved past Hollywood, and ran for the pool tables.
I was too late. The guy took a swing. Bailey managed to duck the first punch, but as he came up, he got a second fist right in the eye.
He flew backward, hitting a table on the way down. Chairs skittered away as the table slid into them. Shouts went up from the nearest patrons.
The asshole who hit him drew back his foot, ready to kick him in the ribs.
I stepped between them and placed my hand flat against his chest. “Back off.”
“Little shit ripped me off!” he spit.
“I did not,” Bailey said hotly behind me as he got to his feet. “You saw me play Teddy. You knew what you were getting into.”
“Teddy beat you!”
