8. For the Love of a Dumbass

Chapter Eight

FOR THE LOVE OF A DUMBASS

Nash

W hen I met Bramley Ambrose, I wasn’t in a very good place in my life.

I’d just been released from a correctional facility—if you want to call it that—in Illinois, one I’d been in since I was twelve, and considering I was thrown in there for killing my mother after she drowned my little brother and sister in the bathtub, I didn’t have very many options when it came to what to do next.

My dad shot himself after he found my siblings.

He came home from work—he was a trucker who spent a lot of time on the road—my mom and I were nowhere to be seen, and when he realized there was water running downstairs from the second floor, he went to investigate. My brother and sister were still face down in the tub, their little four and three year old bodies bloated and gray because it had been six days since they died, but despite that, he pulled them out and tried to revive them.

When that was unsuccessful, he went and got his shotgun from the safe, loaded it, and laid my siblings in his lap before he ate the barrel of the gun and blew out the back of his skull.

I found his half-assed note, and all three of them, a few days later when I got home from the boarding school they sent me to, ready to spend Christmas break with my family, totally unaware of what happened.

I tracked down my mother after that, she was hiding out at my uncle’s house, and when that bitch came to the door acting like everything was fine and she was happy to see me, I used the same shotgun on her.

And I reloaded the fucking thing two more times; a shot for each of the people I lost.

My uncle was the one who called the cops, the one who painted me to be the bad guy when my siblings and my father were dead thanks to his piece of shit sister. He went on and on about how my mother was sick , how she’d never been right in the head so she couldn’t be held responsible for what happened, and I was the villain for unjustly persecuting her, and ultimately punishing her.

So, when they set me free at twenty years old, claiming I was young enough when it happened that they didn’t think I’d do anything like that again, that I’d been rehabilitated by the doctors at Blackhurst and could go on to live a relatively normal life, I was actually up shit’s creek without a paddle.

My mother’s family was out of the question. They’d disowned me after I killed her, and they made sure I was put away for it. Dad didn’t have any family left and since he was gone, I was pretty goddamn alone. I decided travel was my only real option, and eventually I found myself in West Virginia, hitchhiking my way along the Appalachians until I came across Obsidian Falls.

That’s when I met Carlisle.

I walked into the diner to grab something to eat, and sat at the counter next to this big fucker who looked like he could snap me in two. Which is no small feat, I’m not exactly what one would call petite myself, but that man could have squashed me like a fucking bug, and the only open seat was right next to him.

He grilled me at first, asking me about where I came from, why I was there, and where I was going. Then something in his features softened and it was like he knew I was wandering around aimlessly or some shit. For some reason, he took me in right away and by the time I was done eating, Carlisle had paid for my meal, given me a job at his farrier shop, and invited me to dinner with his family the next night.

Enter, Bramley Ambrose.

Carlisle was one of his dads, Titus and Tempy’s biological father, and dinner with the family turned out to be a huge ordeal. One that ended with Bram’s dick in my mouth and his bite on my shoulder.

There was something about that shithead’s effortless charm that drew me in, but I knew the stakes.

I knew he was a jackass, same as he knew I was one, too. Twenty minutes of conversation confirmed it, and the night we met was the first of many times Rex has said Bramley and I are a match made in hell. In my opinion, it just meant my alpha is the king of shitheads, and we were destined to duke it out from time to time.

Stoic and broody, stubborn as hell, fucking angry and confrontational.

He doesn’t talk about his feelings, sometimes I question whether or not he has any, and there are still days where if you didn’t know us, you wouldn’t think we were anything more than acquaintances.

You want to talk about layers? Bram has so many I’m pretty sure he doesn’t even know what’s underneath, but I saw the value in peeling them back.

I saw value in Bramley , and the rest didn’t matter a whole lot.

None of that shit actually bothered me at all because the longer we were together, the more I got to see a side to him that I knew he didn’t let many see, and that’s where our relationship really grew from.

He’s passionate and surprisingly thoughtful. Loyal to a fault, and he has no problem with commitment. Bram is driven and goal oriented, and he works hard for what he wants, even if he takes it first then does that work later. His heart is so much bigger than he’s comfortable with, and he loves harder than anyone I’ve ever met.

Even with the murderous inclinations, and how frequently he acts on them, Bramley is one of the best men I have ever known.

Seventeen years later and I still feel that way, but fuck, the man pisses me off.

Crossing my arms against my chest, I tip the chair back on two legs, dropping my feet on the porch railing and cross my legs at the ankles.

Yeah, it’s been a few weeks since we’ve said more than a couple words to each other.

I don’t really feel bad about it, either.

Especially since Bramley decided to make himself scarce nearly the entire time I’ve been ignoring him. It makes it easier for me to do that, but it’s given me a lot of time to think, and I think I’m going to knock him out the next time that dumbass pulls into our driveway.

I was pissed when I found out he split in the middle of the night to go kill a couple of Harden’s men without us. I didn’t give a damn that it was per Zeke’s request, and under some shit about keeping Clay and I out of it, for our own safety at that. I was ready to ignore that fuckhead for as long as it took for him to come to his senses, even started as soon as he got home.

Then I saw the girl.

My heart dropped to my fucking balls and suddenly it didn’t matter what Bram had been doing—not that he was forgiven by any means—all focus shifted to her, and I could feel the urgency he had to take care of her.

That urgency became mine, as did the concern thumping right along with it through our bond.

We got her inside, situated in the spare room, and when Nan and Rex came in to get started, I stayed while Bramley took off to go chop fucking wood.

Which is the exact moment I decided I wasn’t going to be the one who caves this time.

I can usually feel Bram’s remorse, his guilt or even his apology before we end up talking. I feel it, and I know he’s going to struggle acting on it, right up until I explode all over again, so I usually go to him first so we can make up because he doesn’t know how to use his words, and we get it over with that way.

For some reason, this feels different, and I don’t want to be the one who tucks tail.

Nan said the woman was on the upswing, that she was healing and the chances of her waking up sooner than later were growing with each day that passes, and since she’s not only terrifying, and she’s a bonafide doctor, I trust her. That’s enough for me to stay fucking put so that female doesn’t wake up alone, and to make sure she has what she needs when she does. I honestly don’t think I could leave if I wanted to, the need to be here for her is too strong, and it has me even more pissed off at Bramley.

You’d think, after flying in here like his ass was on fire, rushing to get all hands on deck, my alpha would have wanted to be here the entire time that female was in the spare room.

Nope.

He took off the next goddamn day and stayed away until Clayton went to find him.

Didn’t keep him here, though.

Bram has been in and out over the last few weeks, restless and wound tighter than before, and while I’m still mad about how he’s handling things, I’d almost rather he be gone because I’m liable to do something I’ll fucking regret when he’s here.

Correction.

Something my alpha will regret.

“Nash,” Rex whispers as he opens the door behind me. “Is the coast clear?”

I turn slowly with a frown. “Clear of what?”

“My son,” he grunts, searching the porch and the front yard. “I’m not coming out if the two of you are fighting out here.”

“He’s still gone.”

Rex gives me a firm nod and blows out a breath before pulling out his pipe. “Where to this time?”

“Don’t fucking know.” The and I don’t fucking care is heavily implied.

“He’ll be back.”

I stare out into the yard, fighting the urge to roll my eyes. Rex doesn’t need to deal with my shit just because I’m pissed at his son. It doesn’t really help that aside from the eyes and hair, he’s as close to identical as they can fucking get. Hard not to make him the target of my anger sometimes.

His dad is so damn different from him, though, which does help.

“Butch ever tell you about when I found my scent match?”

Arching a brow, I look up at Rex as he comes to stand next to me. “No.” And I have no idea why he’s telling me now.

He chuckles, puffing on his pipe a few times before he pops a hip against the railing. “I was already with Maeve, it was just the two of us, and she was very pregnant with your boy. Like, ready to pop at any second, ready to rip my head off just as quickly.” Rex smiles as he looks out into the yard but I know that’s not what he’s seeing. He just took a step back in time, thirty eight years back, and I will never not get a twinge in my chest when this sort of thing happens. “We had an appointment with her doctor but we had to pick up Nan from her office first. I went inside, it was a lot for Maeve to get in and out of the car, and as I made my way toward the back…” He shakes his head. “Carlisle was there with his mom, and we matched instantly.”

Huh.

I didn’t realize Rex and Carlisle were scent matches. I didn’t even know that could happen between alphas but what the hell do I know anyway, it’s not like I have much experience with shit outside of the insta-lust with Bramley.

“We managed to exchange numbers quickly, I’m not even sure how anymore, but it happened, and I had no goddamn idea how I was going to tell my pregnant mate that, oops, found my scent match at your mother’s family practice .”

A smile touches my lips as I think about Maeve. “She knew, didn’t she?”

“Sure as fuck, she did.” Rex barks out a laugh and shakes his head. “I should have known better but I was terrified she was going to be pissed, that it would somehow turn into an ugly jealousy thing. My parents were matched, and it was always just the two of them.”

“Mine, too.” I nod, even though my story is a lot more tragic than I imagine Rex’s is.

“So you know what I mean. Having multiple mates, I was really new to the idea, I was new to damn near everything, but Maeve…” He trails off and I swear I see a glimmer of tears in his eyes. “She went into labor that day, almost right after we picked up Nan, and Carlisle was momentarily forgotten.”

I know this part. “Until you backed into his truck leaving the hospital.”

“Yeah, and Maeve saw it on our faces, she knew before that but when she saw us together, she just knew.”

“I didn’t think Carlisle moved in until Bramley was two, though.”

Rex chuckles and swipes at his cheeks before he turns to me. “Exactly. We matched, Maeve knew, and I was so scared of hurting the love of my life—not realizing I could have more than one—I didn’t do shit because of it. Two years of ignoring my scent match because I didn’t know how it was going to play into my current relationship.”

We sit quietly for a while, the two of us watching the light flurries fall in the morning sun, listening to the birds chirping, the sound of the wind moving through the trees.

It’s peaceful, calm.

It’s… “You’re fucking kidding me,” I shout as I get to my feet, knocking the chair over before I point a finger in Rex’s face. “No. No fucking way.”

He shrugs with a smirk. “Makes sense to me. He is my son, the stupid didn’t fall far from the tree.”

“You’ve got to be shitting me. You’re trying to tell me that Bramley is acting like the dumbass he is because that woman in there”—I point as if Rex doesn’t know who the hell I’m talking about—“is his goddamn scent match? And he had the balls big enough to leave her while she’s injured and recovering?”

“See? Stupid.”

“You don’t know that for sure.”

“No,” Rex says with a puff of his pipe. “No one but you boys will know for sure, I’m just using personal experience and context clues to try and understand Butch.” Then he mumbles as he scratches his chin. “Same way I have his entire life.”

He keeps talking but I’m not listening.

No, I’m fucking livid right now, and the more I think about Rex’s story, the worse it gets because that female is injured. She almost fucking died. Bram was compelled to help her, probably on some baser level like I was, but I’d put money on him knowing they matched the first time he split.

Which means that dumbass has no intention of bonding with her.

Well, fuck that.

Ignoring whatever else Rex has to say, I spin toward the door and burst into my house, searching for my phone because if Bram isn’t going to bond with her, I doubt he planned on telling me or Clay about the match in the first place, and that means it’s going to be my job to narc to our beta so we can gang up on him.

If that female is his match, that makes her our match , and neither of us are going to let this shit go without a fight.

Even if that voice in the back of my head is telling me that the one we could end up losing, is the one who brought us together in the first place.

Dumbass.