Callan's Atlas (Brigs Ferry Bay Book 3) Read online

  Zak playfully bites my nose, and I smack at him. He chuckles as he climbs off the bed. Jax ruffles his hair which turns into a shoving match that makes the walls rattle as they make their way down the hall. Dante’s amusement fades as he turns a critical eye to me.

  “What’s going on, Callan?”

  Here we go.

  “Nothing.”

  His eyes roll. “Can’t bullshit a bullshitter.”

  “Nothing you need to worry about,” I elaborate. “Seriously. I’m fine.”

  “Is this about…the bodies?”

  Dante’s fiancé is our town sheriff and Zak’s older brother.

  Recently, Jax and his deputy, Brie Larson, have had their hands full with a string of murders in the Beacon Island National Forest. Though they kept it quiet from the locals, those who live under the same roof as Jax—mainly Dante, Zak, and myself—were privy to this information. Luckily, Jax said they’ve apprehended those responsible, so we don’t have to worry. But try telling my overprotective brother not to worry.

  “I said I’m fine,” I grit out, kicking my feet off the side of the bed and standing.

  The room tilts a bit, and I clamp my eyes closed. It’s been about nine months since Hank’s metal baseball bat provided me with a skull fracture that required mesh and pins. If I’m stressed or tired, I get the occasional dizzy spell or headache. Dr. Olson says it’s normal, but it doesn’t feel normal whenever it happens.

  “Hey,” Dante growls. “Talk to me.”

  Spinning on him, my anger rears its ugly head, and I lash out at my brother. “Talk to you? Okay, big bro. How about this? My head hurts when I’m stressed. I have nightmares of that monster crushing my skull in with a fucking bat. I’m still aching over Dad’s death and miss my friends back home. I get tired of seeing you and Shelly so goddamn happy when I can barely muster a smile. My best friend is in love with me, and I can’t love him back.” Hot tears burn my eyes, but I blink them away. “I’m suffocating here in this stupid town. Feel better hearing all that? I sure as fuck don’t.”

  He yanks me to him for a tight hug that I’m unable to escape from. For a moment, I breathe in my brother’s familiar scent and relax in his hold. Getting that shit off my chest doesn’t help. All the pain and darkness still drags me under. His comfort is only a reprieve that’ll be over all too soon.

  “I want you to see someone,” Dante rumbles. “A therapist.”

  Yanking out of his arms, I scowl at him. “Just forget it, Dante. Jesus. I said I’m fine.”

  “You’re not. And…” He trails off, hazel eyes turning sad. “And I’m afraid that you’re getting worse.”

  “Tell me how you really feel,” I snap as I grab my wallet off the end table.

  “Callan.”

  Ignoring him, I push past him and out my bedroom door that sits right next to the one he shares with Jax. Unfortunately. I’d much rather share Zak’s garage apartment, but I’m not that much of an idiot. I can endure listening to my brother and his fiancé’s sex noises if that means I’m not making the same ones with Zak. My best friend already reads too much into our sexual activities as it is. If I played house with him, things would definitely get fucked up.

  Zak is waiting in the living room, head bowed. I feel like absolute shit knowing he heard what I said about him. It’s not like I haven’t told him a million times, though. That we can only be buddies who fuck around. Jax gives me a grim smile.

  Fuck.

  I have to get out of here. If I had a license and a car, I’d take to the open road and not look back. With each new day, I feel more suffocated by the combination of their concern, my grief, and the ever-growing cloud of darkness hovering above me.

  Something has to give.

  I can’t continue to live this way.

  I don’t want to live this way.

  I’d rather not live at all.

  Atlas

  I’m right back where I started.

  Hell.

  And I willingly chose to come back here.

  Fucking idiot.

  “You’re going to wear that?” Brie, my little sister demands. “It’s so…” She trails off, frowning as she runs her eyes down my outfit.

  “What’s wrong with my clothes?” I demand, my voice gritty and rough from lack of use.

  “You just…” She gnaws on her bottom lip. “How do you expect to find a woman looking like you crawled out of a dumpster behind a Seattle grunge bar in the year 1996?”

  What the fuck is a grunge bar? I don’t think even Brie knows.

  “I thought we were going to dinner together,” I grunt out, “not looking for a hookup.”

  “A hookup?” Brie cringes, her blond ponytail bobbing with the movement. “Ew.”

  I shrug, glancing at my reflection in the darkened sliding glass door. Sure, my dark jeans are old and holey, but they fit well. My black Doc Martens are worn but have been my favorite pair of shoes for the past couple of decades. The black Mother Love Bone shirt is sporting a hole in the armpit, but I hide it under a dark gray flannel. Hell, I even fixed my hair. Thankfully, I don’t have the golden Barbie look going on like my sister. I take after our father and have dark blond hair with auburn strands sprinkled in. I’d say I look good enough to get laid.

  “What about that pullover I got you from Bean’s? I sent it at Christmas,” she reminds me. “It was navy. Reminded me of your eyes. Go put that on.”

  That pullover that came in the mail was about three sizes too small. I’d given it to my buddy, Holden, who ended up giving it to his girlfriend, Lucille.

  “Maybe I shouldn’t go,” I grumble, turning from the glass door and starting for the couch where I’ve been sleeping for the past week.

  “Oh, no, you don’t,” Brie sasses, smacking me on the shoulder. “You’re back home finally. It’s time for you to settle in and meet some people. A lot has changed since you left.”

  It feels like another lifetime ago.

  When I was a teenager, I’d been desperate to leave this fucking place. I spent the better part of two decades traveling for the military and never really settled in anywhere. Being back home feels like a setback, not a new start.

  “I doubt much has changed,” I mutter under my breath.

  Dad’s still a controlling sonofabitch, and my mother is his biggest cheerleader who sees nothing wrong with the way he is. My parents are just one of the reasons I fled this fucking town.

  The deciding factor of why I ultimately left this town is essentially the reason I’m coming back.

  Jaxson Bell.

  Well, not directly him. His father. Mayor Dean Bell. The guy used to ride my ass when I was a teenager, and he was the sheriff, pulling me over every chance he got. The last time, though, went beyond a general dislike of the rebellious teen who was always running into trouble. It was hate. I knew why, too. He’d seen me with a guy at the bowling alley. I’d been drinking that night, but it wasn’t like I was driving or anything. I can’t even remember the guy’s name I’d been with at the time, but I had no problem shoving my tongue down his throat for all to see.

  Dean saw.

  And he was livid.

  “I won’t have this filth in my town.”

  I told him to fuck off. Next thing I knew, I was sitting in the jail cell, that prick threatening to ruin my life. He strongly suggested I leave. Join the military. Get the hell out of town.

  I did just that.

  So why in the hell am I back?

  Because Jax, Brigs Ferry Bay’s current sheriff, asked me to. Also, I thought it might be a fantastic fuck you to Dean Bell when I pull his ass over. Just the image of writing that prick a ticket had me packing up my meager belongings, putting in my notice at the security firm I’d been working at since I’d left the military, and driving my ass from Boston up to Brigs Ferry Bay.

  “If you’re done bitching, we can go,” I grind out. “But I’m not about to have you mother me, Brie. I’m almost forty damn years old.”

  She pout
s but gives me a sharp nod. “Fine, but at least try and be friendly. I heard Suzy split up with Adam. You always liked her, right? Maybe you’ll run into her. If you’re not so grumpy, you might have a chance.”

  I don’t tell her I don’t remember a Suzy or that I’d rather hook up with whoever this Adam is instead. From Brie’s constant babbling, I’ve learned that she’s friends with a couple of gay guys. But I don’t know how she’d feel if she knew her own brother was gay. Everyone in this town is so fucking homophobic.

  “We’ll see,” I say, yanking on my coat. “I’m starving.”

  Main Street hadn’t changed much over the years, though the gay bar is something I didn’t expect to see when I came back. I’ve yet to actually go inside, but it’s only a matter of time. It’s been a long ass time since I got laid.

  Brie parks her vehicle in front of Comida’s and smiles at me. “Listen…Jaxson is…” She chews on her bottom lip. “You’ll get to meet his fiancé tonight.”

  “Yeah?”

  “A man. Dante Kincaid.”

  When she’d said some of her friends were gay, I didn’t expect for it to be Jaxson. I’d just been into the station the other day to fill out some paperwork, and he didn’t put off any gay vibes. Maybe it’s just because I’ve known him since he was a kid. I always sort of imagined he’d end up marrying my sister, so this is shocking to me. Not to mention, his father is Dean fucking Bell. I’m sure that went over wonderfully. Even more reason to like Jax.

  “Interesting,” I say because it is.

  “Don’t be…” She sighs. “Please be nice.”

  I should tell her that I’m into men. But, since I’m a broody fucker who only wants sex and nothing more, it’s pointless. No matter what gender I prefer fucking, it’s not her business because she’ll turn it into something much bigger than it needs to be. The last thing I need is Brie trying to hook me up with one of her gay besties. That’s a recipe for disaster. I’ll find my own hookups, thank you very much.

  “You worry too much,” I mumble, not agreeing to be nice. Where’s the fun in that?

  We both climb out, and I’m hit with the savory scent of cooked meats and spices. Comida’s has been around forever. I’m thankful it’s still here because my mouth is watering for their famous pozole. The hearty Mexican stew is probably the best thing I’ve ever eaten in my entire life. Which is saying something since I’ve been to more cities and countries than I can count.

  I push on the door and then wave my sister inside. She walks in, grinning from ear to ear. It’s a damn good thing to see her happy. My little sister never smiled like this when we were kids. She wears adulthood well.

  The table she starts for is already filled with four people, with two chairs remaining. Jax sits on one side with a suited, smirking man to his right and a kid who looks like the suited guy to his left. Across from Jax is a younger version of himself—kind of how I remember Jax from back in the day. Brie sits down across from the suit, leaving me at the other end with the kids.

  I yank out my chair, dropping into the seat across from the broody one. My gaze sweeps over the dark hair that hangs in his eyes that are fixated on his soda. His entire look is black—hair, eyeliner, shirt, fingernails. Fucking emo kids these days.

  “Glad you guys could make it,” Jax says, drawing my attention to his grinning face. “You have no idea how happy I am you’ve moved back. We could use another cop.”

  I give him a nod but don’t say anything else.

  Brie sighs heavily. “Since you’re being shy, I’ll introduce you.”

  Shy? More like, I don’t give a shit.

  “This is my brother, Atlas,” Brie says. “Atlas, beside you is Zak, Jax’s brother. This is Dante Kincaid, Jax’s fiancé, and there on the end is Callan, Dante’s baby brother.”

  Callan flinches when introduced, but he doesn’t look up at me. His sharp jawline moves as he grinds his teeth together. This guy is clearly hating every second of being here. Likewise, buddy.

  After we place our orders, Brie and Jax monopolize the conversation, chatting about their excitement at being able to take nights off. When I agreed to come work for them, I was thankful to take the overnight shift. I’d been working security at nights and prefer the quiet darkness.

  “Where are you staying?” Dante asks, his deep voice sexier than I’d like considering he’s marrying my boss.

  “Brie’s,” I grumble. “I’ll be out on my own soon. Put a contract on a house not far from here.”

  At the sound of my voice, the kid—Callan—finally decides to make eye contact. Black-lined hazel eyes glinting with a myriad of different emotions peer back at me. The emotion that pokes me right in the chest is despair. Having served in the military, I’ve seen my fair share of those looks.

  This kid hasn’t been to battle, though.

  He’s no more than seventeen, if I had to guess.

  His gaze is sharp and unapologetic as the despair flees, chased by something more antagonistic. He sizes me up, slowly raking his stare down my face, sweeping past my mouth with disinterest as he takes in my black T-shirt. A derisive snort escapes him before he goes back to glaring at his soda like it’s pissed him off.

  “Pay attention,” Brie gripes, leaning past Zak to swipe at me. “Dante asked if you’ve had a chance to make any friends.”

  All eyes are on me.

  Well, except for the challenging ones directly across from me.

  “Nope.” I pop the P and shrug. “Been busy.”

  “Busy channel surfing,” Brie tattles. “I’m going to hook him up with Suzy. Jax, you remember Suzy? She’s done with Adam. Everyone knows he was cheating on her.”

  She prattles on about the town’s newest gossip, but I ignore her. I’m curious about the boy in front of me. What’s his problem? His brother seems cool enough. I wonder what this kid’s issue is? Based on the expensive suit Dante’s wearing and the fancy-as-fuck Range Rover we parked next to in front of Comida’s, I’d say little Callan isn’t hurting financially. Besides, the despair I’d seen wasn’t the “I didn’t get an Audi for my sixteenth birthday” kind of look. It was more of a “my life is shit, and I can’t take it anymore.” He seems to be the most real, most interesting person I’ve encountered since I’ve been back. Plus, the eyeliner gives him an evil look that I find endearing.

  Zak attempts to make conversation with me but gives up when I only grunt out one-word answers, turning instead to talk to Callan. Callan’s neck muscles are taut with tension. I have the urge to reach across the table and dig my calloused fingers into the soft flesh to make it relax.

  Once again, his hard stare is on me. Accusatory. Angry. Agitated. I’m not one to be intimidated by some teenage boy with an attitude problem. And if I was, I sure as hell wouldn’t have lasted as long as I did in the military or taken a job as a cop.

  I cross my arms over my chest and lean back in my chair, the wood creaking above the roar of the restaurant chatter. I’m fully aware this movement makes my biceps strain through the material of my flannel shirt. Callan’s pissed-off glare transforms into yet another emotion. One that, coupled with a swipe of his red tongue across his pink bottom lip, equates to interest.

  “How old are you?” I blurt out, unable to think of anything else but his fucking age.

  Zak stiffens with awareness. Thankfully, the other three are talking about wedding shit.

  Callan’s eyes narrow, studying me like he can get inside my head. “Eighteen.”

  My dick likes this answer.

  “Want to trade places?” Zak asks, body tense from beside me. “So you can sit by your sister?”

  I tear my stare from the beautifully tortured boy in front of me to size up the jealous little shit next to me. “I’m good.”

  Zak’s nostrils flare. Clearly, he’s protective over Callan. But it’s for more than noble reasons. He likes him. It’s written all over his lovesick face. And he’s learning I’m a threat.

  I wink at him because, yeah, I am a t
hreat.

  Callan

  What did I miss?

  Certainly not this irritatingly good-looking, rough, and much, much bigger version of Brie.

  All I know is one second, Zak was being polite and trying to engage in conversation. The next thing I know, his face is purple, and he looks ready to shove the new cop—Atlas—out of his chair.

  It must have something to do with me.

  Fucking Zak and his stupid feelings.

  I try to figure out why Zak is pissed at Atlas since he didn’t do anything besides exist and deny him in swapping seats. As my brother asks Atlas yet another question, I find my gaze once more falling to the man in front of me.

  He’s intense.

  In a way Jax or Dante could never be.

  Atlas gives off “I don’t give a fuck” vibes which is almost amusing considering his new job.

  A rebel for a cop.

  I’m intrigued.

  As I study the way the light turns part of his messy, dark blond hair into glowing shimmers of golden red, I have the urge to paint. It sparks such surprise in me, I audibly gasp. Atlas’s deep blue eyes—the color of the deepest part of the ocean—bore into me. With just one stare, he unlatches the lid on my head and takes a peek inside.

  It’s irritating.

  That with one look, he can see me.

  I want to peel my stare from his captivating eyes, but I’m struck by how long his eyelashes are. They seem to create almond-shaped curtains around the windows to his rebellious soul, forcing my attention there. Since I’m a rebellious fuck myself, I tear my gaze from his entrancing eyes to his nose. Strong. Proud. A fucking dent right at the top. An imperfection on this god-like man nearly draws a genuine smile from my lips.

  Nearly.

  I suppress it because I’m quite good at suppressing a lot of things these days.

  Speaking of smiles, I let my focus fall to his mouth. Full, surprisingly red lips. Soft for such a rugged man. I wonder if he tastes like Jack Daniels or s’mores or smoke or some other equally redneck flavor. I’m incensed by the fact that I’d be willing to have a sample, despite my pretentious New York upbringing.