“Right. And you got those black eyes how?” she pries.
“You always go toe to toe with an alpha over steak or am I special?”
“You want to be special?”
“Not to you.”
I’m a fucking liar. The only thing I want at this moment is to be the most special, magical thing in her whole world. That, and to be knot-deep in her as she digs her nails into my back.
“Keep this up and it will be omegas giving you black eyes and not alphas,” Beckett says through a laugh.
“I’d pay to see that.” Liam holds his beer out to Beckett for them to clink.
“How much? I have to pay rent,” Ash says, all chipper as she crunches through a green bean.
I realize I’m breathing hard. I finish off my beer and push back my chair to stand.
“Finish your steak. You’re gonna need the strength.” I head for the fridge just to cool off for a minute.
Chapter twenty-nine
ASH
Icecrashesintomylips as I down the last of my water. I fan myself a little as I wipe my mouth. They keep their house way too warm.
Pierce stabs another piece of steak with more force than necessary, his eyes locked on his plate like he has to defend it from steak thieves. I’m all too aware of his presence across from me, that his foot is inches from mine. I notice the way his shoulders fill out his shirt, how his fingers curl around his fork, the rhythmic muscle in his jaw that tightens with each chew. I hate that I notice these things, like he isn’t the monster who left my brother bleeding out on our living room floor.
Liam shoves his chair back a few inches and tosses his napkin on top of his plate.
“Yo.” He lightly punches Pierce’s arm and holds out a fist. Pierce squares up with him. “One, two, three. Shoot.”
Liam’s flat hand meets Pierce’s fist.
“Ha! Paper covers rock,” Liam declares.
“Fuck,” Pierce mutters.
“I’ll be right back.” Liam stands and absently touches my shoulder. Heat flares right through my chest. Pierce stares at the exact spot on my shoulder.
“What was that about?” I ask, ignoring the heat threatening to consume me. “What did you lose?”
“I’m on dish and trash duty tonight.” Pierce’s voice sounds snotty, like he didn’t appreciate I pointed out his loss.
“Beckett doesn’t play?” I ask.
“Beckett is too pretty to do the dishes.”
“Knock it off,” Beckett laughs, then leans in toward me to share the secret. “It’s a weird competition thing between the two of them. It’s been going on since they were kids. I don’t get in the way.”
A memory claws its way up. I was a baby when my mom died, and Papa always had these weird jobs at weird hours. Reed would be the one making dinner, even if the only thing we had was peanut butter sandwiches. More often than not, Liam and Pierce would be there too.
There would always be some competition to take out the trash or clean something up. Rock, Paper, Scissors, or they’d arm wrestle, something like that. I’d been desperate to be included in everything they did, so I challenged Pierce to arm wrestle me. I couldn’t have been more than six or seven. He let me win, and when I pinned his arm, he threw himself on the ground like I’d broken it. Liam counted him out like a pro wrestler. Reed scooped me up to sit on his shoulders, declaring me champion of the world.
I blink tears away when Beckett’s phone breaks the strained silence and saves me. He glances at the screen and winces.
“It’s Chantel,” he says, pushing his chair back. “Gotta take this. My agent.” He pauses and dips toplace a quick kiss on my temple, and I fight the urge to cling to his hand, to beg him not to leave me alone with Pierce.
The kitchen feels impossibly small now, just me and the man I’ve spent years hating. Pierce takes another swig of beer, his throat working as he swallows. I play with the last string bean on my plate, not knowing what else to do.
