10. Nine

Boone was gone when I woke up the next day. He left my pills in a paper cup on the bathroom sink with a note that said Shepherd would be by later with my first injection.

I stared down at the little pink pentagon in the cup, the antipsychotic I’d been taking for years. It’d changed size, shape, and dosage many times over. Today, it was cut in half, the sharp white edge where Boone had cut it staring back at me. I used to take a lot more pills. At the height of my treatment, there were three different antipsychotics, an anti-anxiety medication, and two sedatives to help me sleep. Those last two were the first to go. I couldn’t stand the idea of a medication that left me too drugged to move. I’d rather deal with the nightmares than that.

I swallowed the pills with a little water and got in the shower, trying not to think of Boone and the kiss from the night before. My head was so messed up over it, and the more I thought about it, the more confused I got. It was easier to pretend like it’d never happened, but probably too much to hope that he’d do the same.

I went to work, hoping it’d be a busy day at the shop. I could use the distraction to keep my mind off both Boone and the fact that Shepherd would be there later in the day to give me my first injection of the new med.

When I arrived, there was a new car out front. Not just any car, either, but a bright red Tesla Model 3. I’d never seen one in person before, and while it was no Camaro on the outside, the tech on the inside was sexy as hell. I couldn’t stop myself from running my hand over the hood with an appreciative whistle, wishing I could get a look under the hood.

“Ever seen one before?” came a man’s voice from nearby.

I lifted my hands from the car and took a step back, eying the speaker. He looked painfully out of place wandering the junkyard with his slick salt and pepper hair and his expensive suit, but we had all kinds come in. Still, something about the guy stuck out to me, making me wary of his presence. Nothing we had in the yard would be useful to someone who owned such a high-tech car.

He smiled and walked over, patting the hood where my hand had been just a few minutes ago. “She sure does seem to turn heads around here.”

“Not many Tesla charging stations out here in the sticks,” I said with a shrug. “How many miles can you drive on a full charge in this thing? About three fifty?”

His mouth turned up in a pleased smirk. “Closer to two eighty with the hills and the curves,” he said and extended a hand. “I’m Lucky.”

“Xion,” I said, shaking his hand. He had a good, strong grip that made me want to like him, despite my paranoia. “Afraid if you’re looking for Tesla parts, you’re in the wrong yard.”

“You look a little young to be a mechanic.” His smile faded and he took me in slowly, in a way that left me feeling a little uneasy, like he was trying to memorize things about me.

“I’m still in training, but even I know there are no dead Teslas out there.” I pointed my thumb out toward the yard. “And nobody here is certified to work on them. You’d be better off taking that to a dealership. Closest one’s probably out in Cincinnati.”

“Oh, I’m not here for parts or service.” He looked me over again with a smirk. “I’m just browsing.”

I frowned. Who the fuck came out to a junkyard to browse? Someone with way too much time on their hands.

Unless he’s here because of Boone’s other line of work.I scanned him again. He seemed like the type who had money to burn. Maybe he wanted to hire Boone for a job.

I shoved my hands in my pockets. “If you’re looking for Boone, he’s not here.”

Lucky’s smirk faded, his gaze turning sharp, though his voice was still pleasant when he asked, “What makes you think I’m here for him?”

I shrugged. “He does jobs for people sometimes.”

His smirk returned. “Is that so?”

I crossed my arms. “If you’re not here for parts, service, or to talk to Boone, then why are you here?”

“You might say your friend Boone and I are in the same industry, except I do everything he does better.”

That made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. “Everything?”

Lucky couldn’t really mean everything, could he? He probably meant cars and car repairs, right? There was no way this guy knew about the wet work Boone did on the side.

Something in me was telling me to run far and fast from this guy, that he was as dangerous as they came, but I couldn’t make my feet move. I just stood there like an idiot.

I stiffened as Lucky opened his suit jacket, but instead of a weapon, he brought out a black business card and held it out to me between two fingers. I took it with a frown and turned it over. On one side was the image of a spade embossed in gold and the back was blank.

I held up the card. “There’s nothing on this one.”

He chuckled and opened the driver’s side door of the Tesla. “It says everything it needs to for those who know how to look. Take care of yourself, Xion. See you soon.”

I watched the Tesla pull away with a frown. What the fuck was that supposed to mean? I wasn’t cut out for this clandestine bullshit. I pocketed the card, intending to give it to Boone when he showed up. Maybe he’d know what it meant.

Happy was up in the office talking to Church when I made it into the shop. I could hear Church complaining about the way Boone kept the shop records, which wasn’t unusual. Church said complaining was practically a national sport for Brits.

Bowie sat behind the counter, cleaning under his fingernails with one of his knives. Happy would kill him if he found him sitting with his boots up on the counter like that. “What’s up, kid?”

“Did you see that Tesla?” I asked, going straight to the clipboard that contained the day’s work orders.

“What Tesla?”

I sighed as I flipped through the pages. There was nothing on the board for the day. Nothing at all. Well, at least I had my project car. I put my hands on my hips, turning away from the clipboard. “Never mind. I think I’m going to go see if Ragnar’s busy. Call me if someone comes in.”

“You got it, kid.” Bowie flashed me a thumbs up and I walked out the back of the shop.

Unlike the rest of us, Ragnar didn’t live in a regular trailer. He lived in a big yellow school bus that’d been retrofitted on the inside to be his version of a tiny house. Once you stepped inside, you’d never know it used to be a school bus. The place was quaint, full of Americana and farm-style décor and doilies, exactly the opposite of what you’d expect when you met Ragnar.

During the day, he was in one of two places: either he was playing with his pet chickens—Nugget and Patty—in the yard, or he was in his shed working on his trash sculptures. Judging by the music blasting on the shed’s speakers, I guessed that’s where he was.

I stopped in the doorway, eying the mess that was Ragnar’s workshop. Sparks flew as Ragnar sawed through two pieces of sheet metal. At first glance, it was easy to see how he’d earned his nickname. The guy was six-six and built like a tank with long bright red hair that was redder than Boone’s. Today, he was wearing a stained up plaid shirt with the arms cut out and a pair of hip hugging leggings, but that wasn’t what he’d been wearing the first time. Back then, his hair had still been pink, and he’d been wearing fishnets, a leather bustier, and a pair of bright red pumps that made me wince. I didn’t know how he walked around in those things, especially given his size, but Ragnar made it look easy. He was wearing a pair of steel toed boots today, like always when he was in the shop.

To get his attention, I rang the bell mounted on the wall. He stopped cutting and flipped up the welding mask he wore instead of safety goggles, revealing he’d brushed some glitter into his mustache and beard.

“Xion!” He grinned and set the helmet aside. “How are you today? It’s been a while since I’ve seen you! Slow day at the shop?”

I shrugged one shoulder. “Dead is more like it. I was wondering if you wanted to come help me work on the Camaro. I think we might have enough daylight to get everything in the engine hooked up.”

Ragnar tilted his head to the side and ran his fingers through the braids on his head, considering me. He knew as well as I did that I didn’t need his help for that part of the project, but I really wasn’t looking forward to being stuck in my own head all day.

“Absolutely,” he said, stripping off his work gloves and depositing them on the bench. “Let me get my tools.”

“And I’m just saying,” Ragnar said with a sigh, holding another socket wrench out to me, “it’s one thing to dislike Buffy, but I draw the line at Golden Girls. Never date a man Betty White wouldn’t approve of. That’s advice to live by.”

I grunted and twisted the wrench, tightening the part into place. “Who’s Betty White?”

“Who’s Betty White?” Ragnar practically exploded. “Child, what does Boone have you watching? You need some cultural education!”

“It’s mostly old movies,” I muttered, trying not to think about how we hadn’t even made it all the way through the last one. I’d had the stupid idea to kiss him.

“That’s it. I’m going to kidnap you for a weekend and we’re going to binge watch all seven seasons of The Golden Girls.”

My arm was getting sore, and the part wasn’t cooperating, so I gave up and let my arm fall to the ground with a frustrated sigh. I’d only been half-listening to Ragnar, mostly because I didn’t have the heart to tell him my attention span wouldn’t let me sit through two episodes of a TV show, let alone seven seasons. I wasn’t a big fan of TV unless it involved cars, guns, and violence.

“What’s wrong, Xion?” Ragnar bent down, his head appearing in the narrow space between the ground and the car’s undercarriage. “You’re speaking even less than usual.”

I opened my mouth to tell him I was fine, but that wasn’t what came out. “I miss my brothers.” Shit, why did I say that? I sounded weak and stupid. I didn’t need Xavier and Xander any more than I needed Boone or anyone else. I’d survived so far on my own. What did I need them for?

“Ah, family.” He plopped down on the ground. “It’s not easy being the black sheep, is it?”

I sighed and used a rag to clean some of the grease and oil from my fingers. “I’m not just a black sheep, Ragnar. I’m not even a sheep. They sold me to you guys like I was nothing.”

“Who told you that?” Ragnar asked sharply.

I shrugged. “Nobody, but that’s what happened, isn’t it? I’m not stupid. Boone doesn’t do shit if it doesn’t make him a buck somewhere. Money is all he cares about.”

“That’s not true,” Ragnar said.

Words alone would never be enough to convince me. Boone wouldn’t keep me around if I wasn’t making him money somehow, either now or in the future.

I let out a frustrated growl and went back to work, furiously tightening the part in place. Boone wasn’t the only one I should be mad at. I should hate Xander, Xavier, all the Laskins too for the way they’d abandoned me while I was in the hospital and then sold me like I was fucking property. That wasn’t how family was supposed to be, and I wasn’t going to forgive them for it. Ever.

I wished none of that were true. I wished I were the forgiving sort, and that there would someday be a teary reunion in my future. All this would be behind me and I’d get to go home to Liar’s Corner where I’d grown up. Mom would come running out the front door to meet me, throw her arms around me, and give me a hug. Then she’d make a big dinner and we’d all sit down at the table like we used to. Maybe things would be tense between me and Xander for a while, but we’d work it out. We were brothers, after all.

But that was all a fantasy. It could never be real. I couldn’t forgive them for not being there when I needed them most, even if I couldn’t blame them for it. I knew I didn’t deserve their love after what I’d done, but I still wanted it more than anything. The love a mother has for her sons, and that brothers had for each other, shouldn’t be so conditional. It should never have been about what I deserved. I wanted them to forgive me, yet I was incapable of forgiving them.

So, we were at an impasse. A broken family, incapable of mending itself.

“The first time I put on my mother’s heels, I was six,” Ragnar said. “My father never forgave me. When I put on a dress to perform for the first time, he disowned me and refused to let my mother speak to me.”

I stopped tightening the screw. “What an asshole.”

Ragnar sighed. “We all know what it’s like to lose family, Xion. Well, except maybe Happy, but he has his own family issues. Bowie lost his partner and his job when he came out. Wattson’s mom died of cancer when he was young, and Leo’s parents don’t talk to him anymore. Hell, Boone even lost his twin brother.”

My eyes widened and I turned my head toward where Ragnar was sitting. “Boone had a twin brother?” Why hadn’t I known that about him?

There was a brief pause before Ragnar continued. “We’ve all lost someone, Xion. That’s why we’re here. This is a hard world to live in, especially alone. So we made a family of our own to get through it. Family is about more than sharing blood. It’s about who you’d bleed for. Who you’d kill for. Boone would kill to protect any of us, and in turn, we’d each lay our lives down for each other and for him. That’s how family works.”

“That’s not how my family worked,” I mumbled.

Ragnar patted my ankle. “Your family is who you make it, Xion. I can be your brother if you want.”

I stared up at the rust spotted undercarriage, my heart in my throat. His offer meant a lot, but it wouldn’t be the same as having Xander and Xavier back. “Thanks, Ragnar.”

“Anytime, my friend.”

A family… I’d never looked at the Junkyard Dogs like that, but that’s what they were. Another family I was just existing on the fringes of, another group of strangers for me to cling to. I didn’t belong there with them. Not one of them would die to protect me, and I certainly wouldn’t die for any of them. I was too damn selfish.

I finished installing the part on the car and called it a day. I needed another shower so I didn’t stink like motor oil and junkyard dirt when Shepherd showed up.

Boone was sitting outside the trailer when I got there, smoking a cigarette on the stairs like he’d been waiting for me. He didn’t say anything as I approached, and he didn’t move either. I resolved to walk past him and ignore him, keeping up our game of cold shoulder, but then he looked up at me. Something in his hazel eyes made me want to go to my knees, but I stayed where I was.

We stared at each other for a long moment, saying nothing. What was he thinking about? Last night? Was he pissed at me? I’d probably thrown away my only chance for us to be more, and I didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing yet. All I knew was that, despite the bad memories last night had dredged up, I was glad to see him after such a long, hard day. I wanted to keep seeing him, to keep feeling that little flutter in my chest when he looked at me like I was the only person in the world that mattered.

And I wanted to be that for him. To matter. To be wanted.

I ran my tongue over my lips as if I could somehow still taste him there, but all I tasted was junkyard air with a tiny tinge of Boone’s cigarette. If I put my lips to his and breathed in the smoke, would it be enough to feed my addiction to cigarettes? Enough to feed my addiction to him?

For a minute, I let myself imagine giving in to the urge to kneel at his feet. He might let me rest my head against his thigh where it was warm and soft like a pillow. I imagined him leaning back, still smoking while filling my mouth with his cock, making me stick out my tongue to use it as an ashtray, his smoke tainted kiss burning me up inside and out.

I swallowed, trying to will myself not to get hard. It wasn’t working. “Can I have one of those?”

“Are we talking now?” He brought the cigarette to his lips and inhaled.

I watched the end glow bright red. “I could just take yours.”

“But you won’t,” he said, so certain of himself.

“What makes you so sure?”

Boone stood and my heart started beating faster. He plucked the cigarette from between his lips and held it out to me. “Because you can’t take what I’d give you freely.”

I started to reach for the cigarette but hesitated when our eyes met. Had Boone’s eyes always been so mesmerizing? Why hadn’t I noticed that jagged gold line cutting its way through the brown and blue like lightning?

I forced my eyes down and snatched the offered cigarette, bringing it to my lips. Relief washed over me with the first inhale, the subtle tremble in my fingers lessening.

Boone patted my shoulder. “Go get cleaned up, Pup. Shepherd’ll be here any minute.”

I nodded and slid past him, sucking on the filter to chase the taste of him.