Page 55 of Outcast
“Thanks, man.”
Jose hesitated a beat. “Haven’t seen anyone punch the wall like that since your foster dad died.”
I sucked in a sharp breath, but damn, Jose’s punch landed with more force than my own had. The idea I was following in the old hateful man’s footsteps? That didn’t sit right.
“It was stupid,” I said. “I shouldn’t have done it.”
Bailey nudged my thigh with his foot. “Certainly got our attention, though. I thought I was the dramatic one.”
“You just about got your ass kicked by Axel,” I told him. “So maybe we’re all feeling a little dramatic right now.”
Bailey grimaced. “Shouldn’t have called him a weirdo.”
Holden returned twenty minutes later, his mood looking as if it had done little to improve. I was walking Jose through some basic maintenance steps on the bike while Bailey buried his hands in the guts of that Alero. Hopefully by tomorrow, my hand would be recovered enough that I could do the brake job on my own.
Holden vibrated with a tension that said he kind of wanted to punch walls too. He had more restraint than me, which was typical. My brother was tightly controlled—he couldn’t function otherwise.
“I’m going to fix this,” he said without so much as a hello. “I don’t know how yet, but I will. I didn’t pull this shop out of the trash heap and bring us all together again to let it tear us apart now.”
“What are you going to do?” I asked.
His lips thinned. “I don’t know, but there’s got to be something the bank can do for us. I need to talk to Emory again.”
“As long as you don’t take it out on him.”
“Seriously?” He glared. “I can’t have you thinking with your dick right now.”
“Emory doesn’t want us to lose this place either,” I snapped. “We can’t blamehimfor the old man’s bad choices.”
“See? Your dick is more worried about Emory than your own fucking family.”
“Bullshit. I just have a clearer head than you. I’m not blinded by emotion.”
“Maybe you should be,” Bailey interjected. “This is our home and our business. Our lives, Gray.” He turned a look on Holden. “I’m with you, Holden. There’s got to be a loophole or payment plan,somethingthey can do for us.”
They both turned to me, waiting for my next argument.
Fuck. Despite my assurances to Emory that this business shit wouldn’t come between us, it looked like my brothers had other plans.
“You all act like I don’t care about this family,” I rasped. “But I do. I’m not going to fight Emory. I already busted up my fist fightingmyself.But I’ll fightforthis business. For us. I’ll always fight for that. I can promise you that.”
“All right, then,” Holden said. “I can live with that.”
CHAPTERTHIRTEEN
Emory
Smoke drifted in the air,carrying the mouthwatering scents of charred meat down the block. Music competed with the squeals of children in the bouncy castle my parents had rented for the annual neighborhood block party.
It was no longer my neighborhood—but that didn’t mean I’d gotten out of face-painting duty. Not that I would have tried. I loved kids wearing my art like a badge of honor. In a way, it wasn’t all that different from the tattoos Gray wore—just far less permanent.
“Okay, you’re all done.” I held a mirror in front of Sadie’s face to let her admire the sparkly unicorn I’d painted in pink and purple.
Her eyes lit up. “It’s perfect! Wow. That’s so cool.”
“Glad you like it.”
She skipped out from under the small tent that gave me some shade. Before I could stretch my legs, Mikey Chestnut from next door came in.
