Hard To Balance: Trials & Tribulations #1 | An MM Paranormal Romance

( 3 ) CHAPTER THREE | OWEN SYKES

Twenty minutes later, my brother Atticus is pulling up alongside my truck, driving our mom's midnight black 2016 Nissan Maxima. I heave a sigh of relief.

''Hey,'' he says, jogging up to me along with another guy that doesn't look at all familiar, as I lean over my engine, the hood of my truck being held up above my head by a slightly rusted strut, keeping it from crushing my head.

I pat Lukas on the arm. ''Thank you, dick-wad.''

It's always nice when he's trying to be the protective older brother, but with his smaller height and build, it just looked theatrical. If he wouldn't have shown up to help me out of a situation, I'd be the one shitting myself right now.

Ignoring my brother for a moment as him and the guy named Bryan begin to converse about how old my engine is, as if I already don't know that, I turn towards the rest of the guys that appeared out of nowhere. Honestly, I would have taken their offer for help because I'd grown impatient with Atticus. Just because I'm antisocial doesn't mean I ignore people trying to give me a hand for free. There was only one thing that held me back.

These guys had seen me kicking my truck then cursing and jumping around like an idiot.

How freaking embarrassing.

The tallest one, I think his name is Cyrus, turns to walk towards me and I feel like I should say something, but nothing comes out. Really, I should feel relieved that they're helping--most people wouldn't even bat an eyelash. They had yet to show any hostility, but they're all pretty big dudes, especially the two who stand in front.

At five-foot-ten inches, I'm fairly average height. I've met plenty of people who are a lot taller than me, but I never meet people who could tower over me very often. Even from a distance I can tell that they all had to be fairly over six-foot-four inches tall.

"Who are those guys?"

I look back at Atticus. He's staring at them, too, and I give him a quick flick on his forehead, ducking away when he immediately retaliates, his fist misses my face by mere inches.

"Like I said, I have no idea. They literally came out of nowhere. I didn't even notice until they were right there. I don't think they came from the road."

From where my truck broke down, I can see several feet up the mountain road. I'm sure I would have noticed, no matter how preoccupied I was.

"They probably come from the mountain," Atticus' friend says. "By the way, we've never met. I'm Chase, it's nice to meet you."

I shake the hand Chase offers, then he goes to check on the truck.

"What do you mean by they come from the mountain?" Atticus asks.

"You know there are camping grounds located up that mountain road? It's privately owned. A few times a year there are people who go up there, but there are people who live there permanently. You can catch them in town sometimes, but it's pretty rare."

Atticus sighs. "He was exactly my type, though."

I frown. "You mean the guy in the middle?"

Huge, with brown eyes and dirty blonde hair cut short. He looked massive in his winter jacket, and I imagine he had muscles under those clothes and not just a naturally stocky build. He had that kind of confidence in the way he moved and talked—the confidence of someone who stood at the top of others and was used to being obeyed.

Something about how the whole group had interacted was strange... or was I just reading too much into it? Maybe the others hung back because they didn't care for a stranger, not because they were deferring to him.