Honkytonk Hell: A Dark and Twisted Urban Fantasy (The Broken Bard Chronicles Book 1) by eden Hudson (ebook reader with highlight function .TXT) 📗

I shrugged. “I’m willing to accept that.”

“She loved the warrior because he could see through her mystical forces and he realized she was a goddess.” Jax nodded like he was agreeing with himself. “The warrior’s best friend was a hick-serf who also loved the goddess, but to him she was just another hot girl. For a while—like most of junior high until tenth grade—the warrior and the hick-serf couldn’t be friends. Then, in the middle of January, the hick-serf showed up on the goddess and the warrior’s co-habited castle step with possible frost bite and definite sleep-deprivation. It turns out the hick-serf had been kicked out by his brother and he’d been living in the snow for the past week, but he couldn’t sleep because…dragons and stuff…kept picking fights with him whenever he shut his eyes. The beautiful and amazing goddess made the hick-serf and the warrior work out their differences so that they could all live together because she loved them both, even though she only loved the hick-serf like a brother. And the hick-serf realized he didn’t love the goddess like the warrior did, anyway. So the three of them lived happily ever after and eventually the warrior will ask the goddess to marry him when he’s worthy.”

I grinned. I’m such a sucker for happy endings. And for finding out there wasn’t anything between hot guys I really liked and their coed housemates.

“That was a great story,” I said. “So, how will the warrior know when he’s worthy?”

“When he’s got enough money for a big, flashy engagement ring and a few other minor details so he can take care of the goddess the way she deserves to be taken care of.” Jax pulled into the driveway by their house—castle—and parked beside Tough’s big, jacked-up Ford. Jax saw me look at the truck and then the house. “Hold your horses, lady. You still have to answer my question.”

“Okay. Shoot.”

“Why didn’t you just ask me to tell you a story about Tough?”

I looked down at where my thumb was tracing the door handle.

“Here I thought I was being subtle,” I said.

“About as subtle as my codenames.” He shut the car off, but didn’t get out.

“I read once that you can learn more about a person by the people they’re friends with,” I said. I looked over at Jax. “Why did his brother kick him out?”

“Tough said it was because Colt couldn’t handle reality.” Jax shrugged. “Their family was pretty screwed up, though. Their dad turned them into his military-holy-commandos when Tough was eight, so you can imagine. His sister was the only one he really liked out of the whole bunch.”

“He had a sister?”

“Sissy. She was such a badass—she could even keep Ryder in line. Ryder was Tough and Colt’s older brother. That guy was nuts.” Jax shrugged. “Well, none of them was all right in the head, but Ryder wasn’t OCD-crazy like Colt was, he was beat-your-ass crazy. And Mikal killed Sissy like three months after the war ended, so Ryder ended up raising Colt and Tough for…I’m pretty sure it was four years before Mikal killed him, too. Even before the whole warrior-goddess-hick triangle, I never went over there while Ryder was around. That cabin was a warzone. I think sometimes Tough pulled crap on purpose just to send Ryder flying off the handle.” Jax shook his head. “I don’t know. Just makes me glad I was an only child.”

“It’s not always like that, though,” I said. “With siblings, I mean.”

Jax smiled. “You do realize you’re the girl whose sister punched her in the face, right?”

“For all I know that was Kathan’s idea.”

“For all you know denial is just a baseless psychological theory in Egypt.”

I laughed.

“Anyway, let’s get out of this car,” Jax said. “Fat boy like me can’t take this kind of weather without some werewolf massacre.”

Inside, a guitar was rasping along a thirsty, sunbaked melody that made the afternoon heat seem even worse.

“Jeez,” Jax said, glancing toward the ceiling. “If you’re headed up, tell him we know it’s a million and ten degrees. He doesn’t have to hot box us. Better yet—tell him to play something cold.”

The best I could do was half a laugh because Jax was right. I swear just listening was making me sweat harder.

“Do you think I’ll be disturbing him?” I asked.

Jax leaned over the television to turn on his game console.

“No one’s talented enough to play guitar and jack off at the same time,” he said.

“I meant if Tough’s practicing, I don’t want to bother him.”

Jax sat down on the couch and picked up his controller.

“Did you see Tough play last night?” he asked.

I nodded.

“Then you know he’s the last guy in the world who needs to practice,” Jax said. “He ain’t up there playing so he’ll get better at it.” He stared down at the buttons on his controller. “For real, there are people who sell their souls at crossroads to sound like Tough does. And the craziest part is, he can’t even start to play as good as he sang.”

I looked toward the stairs, feeling like I shouldn’t be asking. “Why can’t Tough talk?”

Jax pushed a button and a Resume screen came up. For almost a whole minute, he sat there staring at the options.

Finally, he said, “You’re bound to hear it around town sooner or later. Just don’t say it was me who told you. And don’t mention it to Harper. She thinks it’s her fault.”

“I don’t think we’ll be on speaking terms anytime soon,” I said. “No offense.”

“I know how she is,” Jax said. “But it wasn’t her fault, okay? This fucktard Jason was mouthing off at the bar one night because Tough sort of worked for him. Harper