Neat (Becker Brothers, #2)(22)

Silence fell over us, long enough for me to take the last sip of my whiskey. I held the empty glass in my hands like it was a lifeline.

“Hey, we still don’t know that that’s what they have in mind,” Noah said gently. “For all we know, they could just want her to be a part of the company, finally live up to the Scooter name she seems to have been running from all this time.”

“Yeah, I don’t think anything points to them making her manager. Not yet, at least,” Jordan agreed.

“Nothing pointed to them murdering our father, either. But…” My voice trailed off, a sticky and uncomfortable knot forming in my throat at the words. Because the truth was, we didn’t have proof that our father’s death was the result of foul play — only suspicion. We knew our father didn’t smoke, and that’s what the fire was blamed on. We also knew he’d been causing waves on the board, and that Patrick didn’t like it, so he’d shoved him into the founder’s old office to sift through paperwork. And maybe those two things together didn’t sound like enough to get suspicious over, but even if it couldn’t be explained, we all felt it — my entire family — that something was off about that fire that took my father’s life.

Jordan swallowed down the knot in his own throat, not commenting on what I’d said and choosing to try to comfort me, instead. “Just try to get through her training, and then you won’t have to deal with her as much. She can do her tours, you do yours. You’ll only have to see each other at meetings and at lunch. You can survive that.”

I nodded, but didn’t have a response. The truth was I may not have had a reason to believe they wanted her to be manager, but I had a gut feeling — and if Dad had taught me anything as a boy, it was to trust that.

Still, there was no point in dwelling on it now. If it was going to happen, it was going to happen — and I’d deal with it then.

For now, I was more upset at the shattering of the illusion of a girl I’d crushed on secretly for years — not that I could tell my brothers that. But seeing Mallory act the way she had — childish, combative, entitled — it was like a sign from God that there wasn’t a woman out there who fit the image I had in mind for what I wanted in a partner.

Not that Mallory Scooter ever could have been that for me.

But she was a beacon of light, one that showed me there were gems out there, women who were different, unique, fascinating. There were women I could talk to about something other than the town gossip or the latest country song. There were women out there who didn’t care what people thought, who danced to the beat of their own drum, who were above the bullshit.

That’s what Mallory Scooter had been for me — hope.

And now, that hope had been reduced to ashes.

Maybe it was silly to put so much stock in her in the first place. Hell, I hadn’t been around the girl in years. I didn’t actually know her. I’d created this image of what I thought she was in my head and clung to it like a na?ve teenage boy with a crush on a movie star.

Now, I’d seen the real human behind the image I’d painted.

Now, I knew the truth.

“Unrelated, but before this whole shit show went down, Mallory told me that Mikey threw his guitar into the bonfire at The Black Hole on Saturday night,” I said, effectively changing the subject.

“He what?” Noah shook his head. “Dad bought him that guitar. He’s had it forever.”

“I know,” I said. “Bailey fucked that kid up. Bad. Worse than I thought, for sure.”

“He’ll be okay,” Jordan said — which was his response to practically everything. I swore nothing ever fazed him. The zombie apocalypse could be happening and he’d be cool, calm, and collected as he loaded his shot gun and assured everyone around him that everything was fine. “Besides, you’ll never guess who came by Mom’s earlier when I stopped by to bring her some groceries.”

Noah and I exchanged looks before he spoke. “Bailey’s back?”

“No, no,” Jordan said quickly, then he smirked. “Kylie.”

“Ky?!” Noah and I asked simultaneously. I shook my head, recalling the girl who used to practically be a little sister to us. “They haven’t hung out in a long time… like, since he and Bailey started dating.”

“I know. I mean, I’m sure they talked at school and stuff, but maybe Bailey had a problem with them being so close?” Jordan shrugged. “I’m not sure, but she was there helping Mom with dinner when I showed up. Mikey was in his room, and when he did come out, he didn’t seem any more cheerful than he has been. But… she was there.”

“Hmm,” Noah mused, circling the ice in his whiskey. “Well, if we can’t pull him out of this slump, maybe she can. They were best friends before Bailey came along.”

Jordan nodded. “I guess we’ll see.”

The jukebox cut out just as the local band that played almost every night at Buck’s bar started their mic check, tuning their instruments and getting ready to play. Buck’s was the only bar in town — though there were a few just outside of city limits on both the north and south sides. Still, it was the watering hole of Stratford, and even though it was a Monday night, the place was packed.

I stared at the empty glass in my hand, debating if I wanted another one. I was slightly buzzed, and part of me wanted to go home, watch the space documentary I’d bookmarked on Netflix and forget about the shitty day I’d had. But, the other part realized that the days of hanging with my brothers at a bar likely wouldn’t last forever, and I was enjoying my time with them.