“Hey,” he said, leaning forward against the bar.

“I thought you would be at the fight.”

“Unlike boyfriends in California, I have my priorities straight.”

“Very funny,” I said, but my stomach fluttered.

“What are you doing later?” he asked.

“Sleeping.”

“It’s really cold outside. I thought maybe you’d need the extra layer.”

I tried not to smile like an idiot, but I couldn’t help it. He was having that effect on me lately.

“Where the hell did Ray sneak off to?” Hank said.

I shrugged. “It’s fight night, Hank. We’re dead. I can handle it.”

“Who fucking cares where she is?” Kody said. His arms were crossed as he leaned his back against the bar. He was watching the near empty room with a frown on his face.

“Did you get that job?” Hank asked.

“No,” Kody said, shifting.

Hank put his hands on each side of his mouth in an attempt to amplify what he was about to yell, and then took a breath. “Hey, Gruby! Send Blia over here to cover for Raegan while she’s outside, would ya?”

Gruber nodded and walked toward the kiosk. I cringed, wishing Hank hadn’t reminded Kody and everyone else that Raegan was likely outside, talking to Brazil.

Kody’s entire face crumpled.

I felt bad for him. He hated the job he once loved, and none of us could blame him. Hank had even given him a good reference for the hardware store where Kody had applied.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I know it’s hard for you.”

Kody turned to look at me, a wounded expression on his face. “You don’t know shit, Cami. If you did, you would have talked some sense into her.”

“Hey,” Trenton said, turning around. “What the fuck, dude? Don’t talk to her like that.”

I motioned for Trenton to stand down, and I crossed my arms, ready for the full force of Kody’s frustration to blow my way. “Ray does what she wants, Kody. You of all people know that.”

His jaws danced under his skin, and he looked down. “I just . . . I don’t get it. We were good. We didn’t fight. Not really. Stupid shit about her dad sometimes, but most of the time we had fun. I loved spending time with her, but I gave her space when she needed it. She loved me. I mean . . . she said she did.”

“She did,” I said. It was hard watching him talk. He was leaning against the bar like it was hard to stand.

I reached across to put my hand on his shoulder. “You’re just going to have to accept that it doesn’t have anything to do with you.”

He shrugged away from me. “He’s just using her. That’s the worst part. I love her more than my life and he doesn’t give a shit about her.”

“You don’t know that,” I said.

“Yeah, I do. You don’t think the guys at Sig Tau talk, Cami? You don’t think they’re discussing your drama, too? They’re worse than the Cap Sig girls, sitting around gossiping about who’s fucking who. And then it trickles down to me and I have to hear about all of it.”

“My drama?” I glanced around. “I don’t have drama.”

Kody pointed at Trenton. “You’re racing toward it at ninety miles an hour. You shouldn’t mess with that, Cami. They’ve been through enough.”

Kody walked away, and I stood, stunned for a few moments.

Trenton made a face. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” I said. I kept my face smooth, pretending that my heart wasn’t trying to beat through my chest. T.J. and I weren’t exactly a secret, but we didn’t broadcast our relationship. I was the only one from our little town that knew the nature of his job, and it was important to him that we kept it that way. A little bit of knowledge led to questions, and avoiding questions meant keeping secrets. It really hadn’t been that big a deal because we’d never given anyone a reason to talk about us. Until now.

“What’s he talkin’ about, Cami?” Trenton asked.

I rolled my eyes and shrugged. “Who fucking knows? He’s just mad.”

Kody turned around and touched his chest. “You don’t know what I’m talking about? You’re not any better than her, and you know it!” He walked away again.

Trenton was completely confused, but instead of sticking around to explain, I pushed up on the hinged piece of the bar, let it slam down behind me, and followed Kody across the room. “Hey. Hey!” I yelled a second time, jogging to catch up to him.

Kody stopped, but he didn’t turn around.

I tugged on his shirt, forcing him to face me. “I’m not Raegan, so stop taking your anger out on me! I have tried to talk to her. I was rooting for you, damn it! But now you’re being a whiny, pouty, intolerable asshole!”

Kody’s eyes softened, and he began to say something.

I held up my hand, not interested in what was likely going to be an apology. I pointed at his broad chest. “You don’t know dick about my personal life, so don’t ever talk to me like you do. Do we understand each other?”

Kody nodded, and I left him standing in the middle of the room to return to my post.

“Fuckity squared,” Blia said, her eyes wide. “Remind me to never piss you off. Even the bouncer is scared of you.”

“Camille!” a voice said from the other side of the bar.

“Oh, hell,” I said under my breath. Out of habit, I tried to make myself small, tried not to be noticed, but it was too late. Clark and Colin were waiting patiently for me on Blia’s end of the bar. I walked over to them and faked a smile. “Sam Adams?”

“Yes, please,” Clark said. He was the least offensive of my brothers, and most of the time I wished we were closer. But on the average day, being around one meant being around all of them, and that wasn’t an environment I wanted to tolerate anymore.

“Uncle Felix is still pissed at you,” Colin said.

“Christ, Colin. I’m at work.”

“I just thought you should know,” he said, a smug look on his face.

“He’s always pissed at me,” I said, pulling two bottles out of the cooler and popping the tops. I slid them across the bar.

Clark’s face fell. “No, but Mom’s had to stop him from taking off for your apartment every time he and Coby get into it.”

“Jesus, he’s still on Coby’s ass?” I asked.

“It’s been pretty . . . unstable at their house lately.”

“Don’t tell me,” I said, shaking my head. “I can’t listen to it.”

“He’s not,” Colin said, frowning. “My dad said Felix swore he’d never do that again.”

“Not that it would matter if he did,” I grumbled. “She’d still stay.”

“Hey, that’s their business,” Colin said.

I glared at him. “That was my childhood. She’s my mother. It’s my business.”

Clark took a swig of his beer. “He’s mad because you missed family lunch again today.”

“I wasn’t invited,” I said.

“You’re always invited. Mom was disappointed, too.”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t deal with him. I have other things I’d rather do.”

Clark’s brows pulled together. “That’s harsh. We’re still your family. We’d all still take a bullet for you, Camille.”

“What about Mom?” I asked. “Would you take a bullet for her?”

“Damn it, Cami. Can you just let it go?” Colin asked.

I raised an eyebrow. “No, and Chase, Clark, and Coby shouldn’t, either. I have to work,” I said, returning to my side of the bar.

A large hand wrapped around my arm. Trenton stood when he saw Clark grab me, but I shook my head and turned.

Clark sighed. “We’ve never been the type of family to gush about our feelings, but we’re still family. You’re still family. I know he’s a lot to take sometimes, but we still have to keep it together. We have to try.”

“You’re not in his crosshairs, Clark. You don’t know what it’s like.”

Clark’s jaw worked under the skin. “I know you’re the oldest, Cami. But you’ve been gone for three years. If you think I don’t know what it’s like to take the brunt of his anger, you’re wrong.”

“Then why pretend? We’re hanging on by a thread. I’m not even sure what’s keeping us together anymore.”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s all we’ve got,” Clark said.

I watched him for a while, and then pulled them both another beer. “Here. These are on me.”

“Thanks, sis,” Clark said.

“You okay?” Trenton asked when I walked back to my station.

I nodded. “They said Dad’s still pissed about Coby. I guess Dad and Coby have been fighting a lot. Dad’s been threatening to come over and set me straight.”

“Set you straight how, exactly?”

I shrugged. “When my brothers fall out of line, it somehow always falls back on me.”

“How does that play out? When he comes over pissed off?”

“He’s never come to my apartment before. But, I suppose if he’s mad enough, one of these days he will.”

Trenton didn’t respond, but he shifted in his chair, seeming very unsettled.

Blia came over and showed me the display on her cell phone. “Just got a text from Laney. She said the fight is over and most of them are headed this way.”

“Woo!” Raegan said as she walked behind the bar. She pulled out her empty tip jar—a hurricane glass—and set it on top of the bar. Marty immediately pulled out a twenty and dropped it in.

Raegan winked at him and smiled.

Trenton patted the bar a few times. “I’d better head out. Don’t want to be here when the dumb fucks from the fight get here and I end up almost killing someone. Again.”

I winked at him. “Mr. Responsible.”

“Text me later. I wanna hang out tomorrow,” he said, walking away.

“Again?” Raegan asked, her eyebrows floating near her hairline.

“Shut up,” I said, not wanting to even hear her opinion.

The postfight crowd trickled in at first, and then the Red was standing room only. The DJ was playing upbeat music, but it didn’t matter: the men were drunk and they all thought they were as invincible as Travis Maddox.

Within half an hour, Kody, Gruber, and Hank were all breaking up fights. At one point, most of the bar was in one massive clash, and Hank was throwing dozens out at a time. Police cruisers were parked outside, helping with the masses, and arresting some of the rowdier guys for public intoxication before they could get into their vehicles.

Before long, the bar was a ghost town again. The club music returned to classic rock and Top Forty, and Raegan was counting her tips, grumbling, and once in a while shouting a single curse word.

“Between you helping your brother and these shitty tips, we’ll be lucky to make bills this month. I need to start saving for a party dress sometime.”

“So bet on Travis,” I said. “That’s an easy fifty.”

“I have to have money to bet on Travis, first,” she snapped.

Someone sat down, hard, onto one of the barstools in front of me. “Whiskey,” he said. “And keep ’em coming.”

“Were your ears burning, Trav?” I asked, handing him a beer. “Doesn’t seem like a whiskey night to me.”

“You wouldn’t be the only females talking shit about me.” He tilted back his head and let the amber liquid slide down his throat, nearly in one gulp. The glass bottle crashed to the bar, and I popped the second top, setting the bottle before Travis.

“Someone’s talking shit on you? Not very smart of them,” I said, watching Travis light a cigarette.

“The pigeon,” he said, crossing his arms over the top of the bar. He leaned, hunched over, looking lost. I watched him for a moment, unsure if he was talking code or already drunk.

“Did you get hit harder than usual tonight?” I asked, genuinely concerned.

Another large group walked in, probably stragglers from the fight. They were happier and seemed to all get along, at least. Travis and I had to pause our conversation. For the next twenty minutes or so, I was too busy to chat, but when the last of the postfight crowd pushed through the red door to head home, I sat a glass of Jim Beam in front of Travis, and then topped it off. He still looked depressed. Maybe even more than before.

“Okay, Trav. Let’s hear it.”

“Hear what?” he asked, leaning away.

I shook my head. “The girl.” That was the only explanation for Travis Maddox having that look on his face. I’d never seen it before, so that could only mean one thing.

“What girl?”

I rolled my eyes. “What girl. Seriously? Who do you think you’re talking to?”

“All right, all right,” he said, looking around. He leaned in. “It’s Pigeon.”

“Pigeon? You’re joking.”

Travis managed a small laugh. “Abby. She’s a pigeon. A demonic pigeon that fucks with my head so bad I can’t think straight. Nothing makes sense anymore, Cam. Every rule I’ve ever made’s getting broken one by one. I’m a pussy. No . . . worse. I’m Shep.”