Cook casts a look over his shoulder, his thin lips pulled down into a frown as his dirt-brown eyes land on my little brother.
“Are you going to help?” he asks Breaker.
My spine straightens. I hate it when he looks at him.
Any of them.
“I’m pretty sure I’m on laundry duty this week,” Breaker says. The blue tin plate clatters loudly through the kitchen as he sets it down before pulling a stool out from under the long metal island. As he sits beside me, his bony knee hits mine. He’s still so scrawny. He shot up several inches this past year, which just makes him look skinnier. The kid is going to be tall. Probably almost as tall as Reaper and Hunter. Maybe even taller.
Breaker’s knee nudges mine again, and he glances my way, checking my reaction. I don’t think he realizes how much he looks at me. I cast a look around the kitchen, making sure my brothers aren’t paying attention. Though I’m sure they notice how much he looks at me.
Hunter catches my eye and smirks. I drop my gaze to my bowl. We’re all gathered around the metal island, eating breakfast. If oatmeal and nuts are considered breakfast, that is. Sometimes I wonder how Hunter and Reaper got so big with how little we eat.
“And I could be wrong,” Breaker says with a mouthful, “but Striker is the dishwasher this week.”
Hunter leans over the island and slaps the top of Breaker’s head before pushing his stool out and heading for the sink. “Don’t talk with your mouth full.”
“Not my turn,” Striker says from my left. He stands up, gathering his bowl and spoon, and makes his way around the long island, then sets them on the counter by the sink. He tosses the spoon in the soapy water and grins at Cook. “It’s Hunter’s.”
“The fuck it is,” Hunter says. “It’s Reaper’s turn.” He lifts his chin in Reaper’s direction. “He’s the asshole who volunteered.”
I glance at Reaper leaning against the far wall by the door. My skin pricks when I find his black eyes on me. I never know what to think of him. He’s so quiet and reserved, alwayswatching, taking in every detail with those dark eyes. Like he’s able to pry your bones open, see into your soul.
I swear he knows.Everything.
Not taking his eyes off me, he lifts a shoulder in that arrogant way he does everything. “At least I’ll know it’s done correctly. None of you dirty rats knows the meaning of clean.”
“Rude,” Hunter says as he yanks the kitchen door open. “I’m the same as you. A clean, mean, sexy machine.”
Reaper rolls his eyes, and I can’t help but smile. It’s rare to see him react to anything. Even rarer to see him smile, but Hunter does that. Pulls smiles and happiness out of a person. Pulls the humanity. What it’s supposed to be. Kindness. Care. Gentleness toward one another. Everything that our father has tried to rip from us.
Everything that half of the population is not.
Makes me wonder which half is our true nature. Cruel, cunning. Murderous. Or soft, gentle, and giving.Forgiving. Maybe it’s both, and that’s why I feel so cut up inside.
“Viper is better at scrubbing everything clean,” Cook says, eyeing me over his shoulder.
I shoot him my middle finger, my gaze dropping to his ass. It’s flat like a pancake. Like he got kicked so many times, every ounce of fat was shoved forward into his gut.
“Reaper will train Striker today.” Father’s voice snaps through the room like a whip. I jolt at the sound, tearing my eyes from Cook to look at my food, my heart beating frantically. The last thing I want is for Father to catch me looking at him.
“Hunter can train him,” Reaper says. I look up long enough to see him push off the wall and walk towards Cook, snatching the rag from his hand and shouldering him aside. “I’m on dish duty.”
“Hunter isn’tyou,” Father snaps, the icy tone making us all freeze. “And I’m not asking.”
Cook smirks, but he swipes it away as he rubs his jaw.
Reaper tosses the rag into the water before he turns and leans back, hands braced behind him on the metal sink. Sometimes I wish I had his arrogance. Then again, maybe I do, and that’s why I’m always in trouble.
“In the yard,” Father snaps, eyes locked on Reaper. “Now.”
Breaker raises his hand, glancing between Reaper and Father. “I’ll do both. I don’t mind.”
“No,” I say a little too quickly, causing every single set of eyes in the room to look my way.Fuck. “I’ll wash the dishes. It’s not a big deal.”
“It’s a big deal,” Reaper says, his ink-black eyes locked on mine. “A very big deal.”
My gut twists, and I do my best not to react. There is no way he knows.
