Not now.
Not ever.
“Dickhead isn’t a word either. It’s slang.” Jaxon opened a box of nails and handed it to Lucien.
“Dickhead’s a word.” Lucien picked up another piece of wood and prayed the werewolf would just leave him alone. He liked alone.
“He’s right,” Barrett deadpanned.
“No shit?” Jaxon turned and gave Barrett his full attention.
Barrett whipped his phone out of his back pocket and hit a few buttons one-handed. He turned, shielding his phone from the glare of the sun. The lumber swung in Jaxon’s direction. Jaxon ducked just in time to avoid getting whacked in the head.
“Watch your wood, man.” Jaxon backed up a few feet and scowled.
“Believe me, Jaxon. You’re the last person on earth I want touching my wood.” Barrett’s dry tone pulled a reluctant smile from Lucien.
Barrett looked back at his phone. “Dickhead. Insulting term for people who are stupid or irritating. Synonyms include asshole, bastard, cocksucker, motherfucker.”
“Cocksucker’s in the dictionary?” Jaxon eyed the phone.
“Dude, does it matter?” Lucien cast a glance at Damon and Jayden. They were almost finished with their walls. “You’re lagging behind.”
“Can I see that?” Jaxon grabbed for Barrett’s phone, but the Pack Master held it out of his reach.
“Don’t even think about it,” Barrett warned.
Jaxon was constantly pushing the boundaries with the Pack Master, and Lucien couldn’t understand why Jaxon couldn’t just keep his head down and work. Life was not one big joke.
“Hey, Damon, did you know cocksucker is in the dictionary?” Jaxon yelled out across the work site as he walked toward the others.
“Yeah. Right under Jayden’s picture.” Damon hammered a nail into the wood with one hit. Quick as a snake, he drove another nail.
“Hey, Lucien, looks like you’re buying the beer tonight.” Jayden’s smack talk had Lucien bristling. “You want us to send Jaxon back over there or you want us to keep him? We could use some amusement while we win.”
“Keep him.” Lucien hammered another piece of wood into place. He swiped his hand across his wet forehead. “Maybe he’ll distract you guys and I can catch up.”
A little past noon, Lucien walked past the line of Harleys to the truck. He grabbed an ice-cold water out of the cooler, leaned against the tailgate, and took a long pull from the bottle. His sharp gaze took in the steady hum around the work site and the acres and acres of sprawling green land surrounding the future home for at-risk girls.
Nostalgia washed over him, reminding him of childhood, of family, of home.
Barrett climbed out of the driver’s seat and made his way to the back of the truck.
“It’s odd.” Lucien straightened and stuck his hands in his pockets. His carefully guarded thoughts had slipped out as words.
“What’s odd?” Barrett grabbed a water and joined him at the tailgate.
“The Pack.” He shrugged, trying to loosen the weight that had suddenly settled on his shoulders. “It’s more of a family than most people have.”
It was more family than he’d ever have.
“True.” Barrett, as usual, kept his tone neutral. It was hard to get a read on his Pack Master. Barrett never spoke of his personal life or where he’d come from. It didn’t make much difference to Lucien. Barrett had a reputation as one of the most respected and trustworthy Pack Masters of the Southern States. It carried a lot of weight with Lucien.
“Family isn’t always blood. Sometimes blood will let you down.” Barrett’s voice carried an undercurrent of an unspoken secret. A secret only they shared.
“They’re not supposed to.” Heat flared in the center of Lucien’s chest and spread like a trail of gasoline, growing and licking at his heart. He downed the rest of the water, hoping the coolness would quench the anger that had been building beneath the surface for years.
“If you stop expecting shit from people, then they stop disappointing you.” Barrett crossed his arms and kept his gaze on the Guardians, assessing the work of his men.
Lucien’s breath grew too fast, too hot, too ready to fight. Righteous anger settled over him like an old musty blanket threatening to cut off his breath. “You don’t understand. My future was taken from me. My destiny stolen.”
Barrett pushed off the truck and stepped in his space. One of Barrett’s qualities was never showing emotion. But now, standing in front of Lucien, emotion was written all over him, from his pissed-off expression to his hands curled into fists.
Barrett leaned closer, eyes narrowed, jaw clenched. “No, you don’t understand. You’re expecting something you won’t ever get. It’s one thing to cut someone out of your life, but you’ve not even done that. You keep expecting something from your brother you won’t ever get. It’s going to destroy you. You have a family here, in this Pack. This is your family, your real family.”