Page 95 of One Last Encore

Eden’s grin sharpened. "Quick question, were you raised in a barn? Because I swear, I’ve met mules with better manners."

Rodney’s laugh came low and bitter. "No, actually. Trailer park," he said. His gaze snapped to Ingrid, dark and cutting. "Did you know that, Ingrid? Beck and I were food stamp kids, except Mom didn’t buy food. She sold the stamps for booze."

Ingrid blinked. The words hit fast and hard, but she stood still. Her heart kicked against her ribs. She’d known, sort of. Little pieces Beck had let slip, hints between lines. But nothing like this.

"Rod, don’t," Beck said, voice tight.

"Why not? She should know," Rodney shot back. "Does your fancy girlfriend know she’s dating trailer trash?"

Ingrid’s stomach dropped.

Her mind scrambled to stay grounded, to sift truth from venom, but it blurred too easily. Beck had gone rigid beside her, and that unsettled her more than anything Rodney could throw. She reached for him without thinking, her palm resting gently over his heart. His heartbeat was a thunderclap.

But Rodney’s eyes followed the gesture, and his voice twisted.

"Did you tell her about Dad?" he pressed. "How he chose pills over us? Or about Mom, wasting away in a jail cell while you pretend she doesn’t exist?"

Beck moved faster than thought.

"That’s enough," he snapped, shoving her hand aside and lunging before she could stop him.

Ingrid gasped, her body jolting. It felt like the floor shifted beneath her.

She stood frozen as Beck’s hand fisted Rodney’s collar, slamming him against the wall with a sickening thud. The sound rippled through the bar, silencing everything. Conversations stalled. Glasses hovered midair.

"Shut the fuck up," Beck growled, voice low and shaking.

It wasn’t just anger in his tone. It was years of grief, shame, fury, all bleeding out at once.

Ingrid’s mind was spinning. Her heart hurt, not just from the fight, but from everything it had dragged up with it. How awful it must’ve felt for Beck, having all that childhood trauma thrown out in front of everyone.

Finn and Reef rushed in, voices urgent, hands grabbing at shoulders, trying to break it apart. But the damage was already done.

She barely had time to process the shift before Beck surged forward.

Rodney’s mouth twisted into something mocking, cruel. "You think you’re different?" he sneered. "That she makes you better? That a new zip code and a girlfriend wipes it all clean? You’re still trash, Beck. Just like me."

Beck slammed Rodney into the wall so hard it rattled the framed flyers beside them. Ingrid flinched as glass clinked in its casing. Beck’s hands twisted into his brother’s shirt, breath tearing out of him in short, frantic bursts.

"Don’t," he spat. "Don’t talk about her. Don’t talk about me. You don’t know shit."

Rodney laughed. A mean, broken sound. "I know you. I know exactly what you are. You’re the same scared little kid whowatched Mom sell our dinner for a bottle. Who begged Dad to come back even after he left us without a goodbye."

That’s when Beck lost it.

Ingrid barely saw the fist before it hit the wall, just inches from Rodney’s head. A deafening crack echoed through the bar as the drywall gave, cracking open like a wound. Plaster exploded into dust, flakes raining down over both of them.

Rodney recoiled. But Beck didn’t stop. For a terrifying second, Ingrid thought he might actually rain his fists down on his brother until the rage burned out. His shoulders heaved, fists clenched so tight they shook. He looked ready to tear the world apart just to feel something break. Her pulse thundered in her ears as she pushed forward, slipping between Finn and Reef to lay a gentle hand on Beck’s arm.

"Beck," she murmured, voice low and steady. "Let him go."

The bartender’s voice sliced through the tension. "Knock it off, or I’m calling the cops!"

Beck didn’t care. His body still coiled with violence, with the kind of fury that came from being hurt too many times in too many ways. His knuckles bled, red smearing down his hand and onto the sleeve of her sweater, but she didn’t move. His whole body trembled with restraint.

Then his gaze flicked to Ingrid. His chest rose and fell like he’d run miles. Then his gaze broke, dropped to Ingrid. To her hand.

He exhaled hard, guttural. Then shoved Rodney back one last time and let go.

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