Page 19 of The Butcher

“The fuck you did.”

I roll my eyes and yank open the door. “You can’t see one goddamn thing you’re doing and he,”—I point to Bramley as he lumbers toward us— “isn’t helping you one fucking bit.”

“Clayton,” he barks from my right. “You better answer my fucking question or else we’re going to have one hell of a problem on our hands.”

Fighting the urge to snap back and tell him to prove it, to detail exactly what he’ll do if I keep defying him, I stare at Nash as he takes his glasses off and narrows his eyes. If I let my inner brat out, I’ll end up spit roasted in the cooler after the truck crashes into the back of the butcher shop. Neither of them will take me seriously if I just drop my pants and bend over, and I won’t get to make my point if I have a mouthful of alpha cock. Now is not the time, and this is not the place.

Holding my head high and jutting my chin out in defiance, I ignore Bram and make my demand again. “Get out of the truck, Nash.”

“I’m going to pretend like you didn’t just say that.” He grabs the steering wheel in one hand and grips the back of his seat with the other as he turns his body toward me. “Because I swear it sounds like you’re telling me what to do right now.”

Jesus Christ.

Why did I have to fall in love with two of the most bullheaded alphas to ever walk the planet? Couldn’t I have at least gotten with an Ambrose who doesn’t act like king of the shitheads? Sure, Zeke drives me crazy, but he can be sweet, and Titus doesn’t talk at all so at least he wouldn’t boss me around.

I shake my head and sigh.

Nope, I couldn’t fall for someone like that. I care about both but there isn’t any way I could be with anyone but Bramley and Nash. Had to have a little insta-love with The Butcher and his Bo, and now they’ve ruined me. I am destined to live out my days with these two, a fate I gladly embrace regardless of how difficult they’ll make everything from time to time.

Again, I’m not really complaining. I love who they are, and I wouldn’t change one thing about either of them, but still. Their personalities are definitely not for the weak, though, and I’ve had enough of the bullshit.

I don’t really have any patience left for the caveman crap right now.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” I say as I stiffen my spine and narrow my eyes right back at Nash. “You’re going to get out of this vehicle and go stand over there while I back it up to the shop. Then, you and Bramley are going to go inside and grab the load, put it in the cooler, and the three of us are going to pile in the truck. I will be driving us to the dump site, and we will get rid of those body parts together, like a goddamn family.” I takea deep breath and turn my scowl on Bram. “After that, we’re coming home to go over tomorrow’s orders, and this weekend’s hunt because Nash and I will be going with you, you will not argue because you love me, and because I am so sick and tired of waiting for the two of you to explode at any second, it’s actually making me cranky. I don’t like it. Then, you two are going to fuck the attitude out of me, order me Chinese food, and you both will sit in our goddamn bed and watch the Lethal Weapon marathon with me until I fall asleep sandwiched between you the way God intended!”

For a few seconds, it is completely silent, save for my heavy breathing and the sound of branches creaking and bowing under the weight of the snow sitting on them.

I’m feeling the slight sting of regret creeping in now.

Slowly but surely, that itch is growing.

I have never talked to either of them like that.

Do we argue? Get mad at each other? Do I cop an attitude from time to time, or push their buttons for the hell of it? Yes, to all of that and more but I don’t think I’ve ever tried to straighten their wagons before and now that I’ve done it, I have no idea what’s going to happen next.

The longer we sit here without saying anything, the more I feel like I just fucked everything up.

Are they making me feel that way? No, they wouldn’t even if they believed I did fuck things up. This is just another one of those things that proves I’m not what most people think I am, and those pesky little feelings and morals affect me just like everyone else.

I don’t like questioning myself, though, so someone better do something before I hit that weird level of regret that makes people run away and hide.

I can’t move very fast and even if I could, I know these two would catch me before I cleared the shop.

Nash slowly gets out of the truck, his eyes completely fixed on my face as he closes the gap between us. He stops directly in front of me, tilts his head a little then grabs the front of my parka so tight he twists the collar.

“You win, honey.” He dips his chin and kisses me softly, his lips soft but so cold. “We won’t fight you on this shit anymore.”

I smile and search his eyes, the emerald green almost glowing from under his still furrowed brow. “Your face says otherwise.”

Nash shrugs a shoulder and let’s go of me, shaking his head as he starts trying to clean his glasses, and I’m quickly spun around to face the bigger pain in the ass out of the two.

“I don’t fucking like this, Clay.”

“I know.”

“I can’t promise I won’t give you shit over it.” Bram levels me with those dark eyes while little puffs of his breath appear in front of the jaw of the skull in a steady rhythm. “And I’ll send your ass home on a fucking plane if I have to the first time, I think hunting is too much for you.”

I roll my eyes and smirk. “I know that, too.”

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