“Urgh,baby, still got shot…”
“Shit—sorry.” She squeaks, pulling her hands back like she’s been burned. Not that it lasts. She’s been constantly pawing at him since he came home from the hospital a week ago, like she can’t believe he’s still here. Can’t say I blame her, but it’s kind of hilarious watching her try not to break him while also refusing to let him breathe.
The air feels lighter for a moment, warm.
“What’s on the menu?” I say, pulling off my hoodie and dropping onto the couch.
“I got something perfect for your mouth right here!” Chace grins, standing in the kitchen, the double entendre is not given a chance to linger before he prances proudly over to me. His apron’s dusted in flour; big white handprints smeared across it. Crumbs and soot sprinkle the black slate flooring, proof of his so-called masterpiece.
“Oh, honey, say less.” I stick out my tongue as he holds out a piece of something that looks like a fossilized pastry. I take it between my teeth, the edge crumbling like charcoal. “Chace.”
“Good, right?”
“Did you… go off script and infuse it with charcoal?”
“No. Why?”
“Because it—” I bite down and instantly regret every life choice that led me here. My molar protests with a sharp jolt of pain. “Because this should be used in construction material, or defensive measures. What the fuck.”
“Ah… swallow! You won’t get the full taste otherwise.” Chace says, way too entertained.
I don’t actually want to… but I kind of have to now.
“Of course, Momma didn’t raise no bitch,” I mutter, choking it down. It scrapes like sandpaper all the way into my gut. Good news, though—I’m pretty sure I read somewhere that charcoal’s good for digestion. Or was that for dogs? Eh. Same thing.
Of course, even while I’m joking, the word “Momma” hits a bruise inside me.
“I didn’t realize I had been missing you two and your domestic bliss scene… So, when are you two going to couple up already?” Logan’s voice cuts through, easy but teasing, like he’s been waiting to drop it.
Chace barks out a laugh. “Even if we were into it, he couldn’t handle all this.” He whips out his man bun, shakes his golden hair free, and gives us a smolder that belongs on the cover of some trashy romance. We all lose it—Mac’s cackling, Logan grins despite himself, and even I can’t keep the corner of my mouth from twitching.
“Besides,” Chace adds, eyes sliding to me, “wrong hair color, isn’t that right, Trey?”
I’ve just taken a sip of water and nearly choke, throat seizing. The compulsion to lie burns, protective instinct rising like smoke. “My good man, I have no idea to what it is that you refer.”
Brilliant. Smooth. Real fucking smooth.
“Ah, he’s sounding like an old-timey Brit!” Mac sings, her voice lilting with fake drama. “That means he’s ner-vous.”
“A-andChace has family obligations, right?” I throw back, desperate to deflect.
Did I just fucking stutter?
“I think you got him rattled with that one, Chace.” Sam groans with a yawn.
“Never gonna happen, my guy. Sorry.” Chace smirks, unbothered.
“In another life?” I ask bemusedly.
“Can I be the top?” Chace asks, I shake my head. “Then not even then!”
“So, your giving weak dick energy, even after I fed you something that contained my blood, sweat and tears, so… what’s up?”
I clap my hands together. There is a hundred ways to get through this, I can joke, deflect, avoid, but no. I should be open and honest, we’ve been through too much to be hiding shit now.
“So, brothers, and sister…I have news.”
I dig the crumpled letter from my jeans and toss it onto the coffee table. It lands with a slap, edges bent, words glaring up at us all.
