Page 3 of Chaos

Silence weighs on me after he leaves.

The cold shower doesn’t shock me out of my daze. Grabbing my bag and my motorcycle helmet, I take a last glance at the worn seat and its echoes of the past.

Maybe Grayson is right.

Splashing through a shallow puddle, I cut around the dark corner to where my Ducati is parked when I hear footsteps.

“Jax Carter?” A man about my age approaches from the wall near my bike.

“What do you want?” I have no interest in fans unless they’re carrying a fifth of whiskey and boast a pair of tits.

“Jax? It’s me. Brody.” He steps into the dim light of the street lamp, revealing dark curly hair and chestnut colored eyes.

“I don’t know you.” My duffel finds its place on the small rack over the exhaust where I strap it down. I want my hands empty in case I have to beat the shit out of this guy before this is done.

My heart beats a little faster at the thought of knocking someone else down.

Fuck or fight. What a great purpose to life.

“Brody Leary? Ring a bell? I’m your brother, man.” His palms turn up as he inches closer.

“I don’t have a brother.” Fame has its drawbacks. All the crazies find their way out from under the rocks.

His voice drops to almost a whisper. “Carine.”

Before I can stop myself, my hand wraps around his throat and pins him to the bricks. “The hell did you just say?”

He has an air of cheap cologne with a tinge of vodka aftershave. “She’s my mom, too. Was. She passed this last spring,” he chokes out.

This close, I can recognize the look. I see it every morning in the mirror.

“I don’t have any money for you. If that’s what you’re here for?” I lighten my grip so he can breathe, but still keep my palm against his neck until I’m sure he isn’t going to lash back.

“Keep your money.” The whites of his eyes flash and a drop of sweat catches a glint of light.

His nostril flares as he battles with the obvious panic lying just beneath the surface. I can feel it in his racing pulse.

“My mother left when I was young. How old are you?” I hate how much he resembles me. I only know her from photos, but I know we both favor her.

“Twenty-four.”

Timeline works.

Jesus Christ.

A roll of every emotion cascades through me. Backing away, I find the seat of my bike to lean against and dig out a cigarette from my bag.

Grayson would kill me if he saw me smoking right after a fight, but I don’t care.

“Why are you here?” The nicotine calms my nerves, but doesn’t stop the knotting in my stomach.

A brother.

“I’m getting married. I want to invite you, as family.” His shaky hand sticks out in a silent plea, holding a small card. My eyes flick between his crumpled note and his lips, flattened in doubt.

I grab the paper from his hand and toss it onto the damp pavement. “I already have a family.”

And the only brother I ever knew, I buried just a couple of months ago.

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