Page 64 of Burned & Bound

“I’ve got something that might help with that.” I left him to rummage around my glove compartment until I found an old pill bottle that I always kept on hand. Naproxen had been my friend for a long fucking time—keeping me functioning through an injury that almost put my ass out of business.

“Why the fuck do you have painkillers in your truck?” he asked when I dropped two pills in his hand.

“Three years ago a bull fucking tossed me. Usually, it’s a tuck, roll, and get back on your feet kind of situation,” I explained, “but this fucker threw my ass right into the fencing. You ever been thrown into a metal fence?”

“No, but I was thrown through a bar door once,” he replied. “It was one of those kitschy old-fashioned saloon-style ones.”

Jesus fuck, West.

“That’d hurt too,” I said. “I fucked up my back. For a while, I was on naproxen to help with the pain. Occasionally, my back still fucking hurts, so my doctor has me keep it around.”

“Makes sense.” He tossed back the pills without hesitation or a need for water.I’d probably regret giving an addict prescription painkillers, but there was no reason he should suffer either.If it became an issue, I’d toss the pills later.

Hopefully, it wouldn’t become an issue.

Fuck. Was this a bad idea? Had I screwed this up for him?

“I can take painkillers, Jackson,” West told me as if reading my mind. He let his cigarette fall to the ground and stepped on it. “Drugs don’t fucking do it for me. Not for a lack of trying.”

I stared after him as he started for the front door.Not for a lack of trying?What the hell did that mean?

“Are you coming, cowboy?” he called over his shoulder.

“Fuck!” I chased after him, knowing full well that Glinda—the front desk nurse—would eat his tattooed ass alive if I let him go in alone.Steamroll him, marry him, and spit him right back out.

Sandy Oaks Retirement Facility took the sandy part of its name way too fucking seriously. Everything was beach-themed from the fake flowers to the tropical paintings on the walls to the obscene amount of Hawaiian vacation shirts everywhere.Was this retirement?Was I destined to become a pot-bellied old man wearing overly bright flowered shirts?

“Sorry about that,” I whispered to West as we strolled through one of the halls. My mom was very likely hanging out in the social center. She usually hustled the hell out of people until lunchtime. “I know we haven’t… defined shit with us, but Glinda would eat you alive if I didn’t say something.”

I’d stupidly told Glinda that West and I were dating while she eyed him like a piece of meat—not that I blamed her for that part. He’d pulled himself together for today. Dark jeans hugged his ass in a way I purposely avoided looking at and a blue Henley brought out the color in his eyes. His hair was shaggy as ever but his beard was trimmed. Hell, he looked better than I did. I hadn’t even bothered to shower. I just shoved a backwards hat over my hair and called it a morning.

“I don’t know.” His lips quirked at the corner. “Watching you damn near fight an old lady over me was kind of fun. Maybe I’ll see how many other women I can get you to fight.”

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

“We’ll see how the day goes.”

“I hate you.”

“Good.”This fucking man.He drove me a little bit crazy. And yet, I craved every second of his annoying antics.

We rounded our way into the social center and sure enough, there was my mom at the center of some fucking card game. She was surrounded by a group of men. To most people, they’d assume Mom was caught in somekind of love circle shit with all of them.Especially with how they looked at her.But I knew better. She was back to hustling them for their money.

“You better not get your ass kicked out of here for hustling, Ma,” I said loudly as I started across the room. West hung back, which I understood why, considering the last time they’d seen each other. “I ain’t taking you back in.”

“Get your singles ready, ladies!” Mom matched my enthusiasm with her smile as if nothing had happened between us. “The League’s only gay bull rider is back in the house. And look at that! He lost his hat. The flannel and hat are a good look on you, honey.”

“Stop pimping me out, you crazy old lady,” I retorted.

“Oh, where’s the fun in that?” she demanded. Anything else she was going to say was lost when she caught sight of West behind me. Her gasp was damn near audible from across the room. “West…”

She dropped her cards and got to her feet, ignoring anything anyone said to her as she hurried toward us.

“West McNamara is that you?” she asked when she was close enough to be heard without shouting.

“Hey, Mom,” West whispered. Something about hearing him call her that again made my chest tighten.

“Oh, my sweet boy…” A small sob tore through Mom as she dragged him close, hugging him fiercely. I took a few steps back to give them privacy. It hit me as I watched that West really did believe what he said—that my parents and Mickey had tried their best. Harrison had just been a fucking force of nature that none of them could handle. I hated that.

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