I’m already cracking more eggs into a bowl. “I’ll eat when this is ready.”
I notice Trip has no trouble digging in, but Bronwyn seems more hesitant. Remembering they seemed surprised at what they’d been given at the club yesterday morning, I’m curious enough to ask, “Is there anything you’d prefer to eat? Because I can get the prospects to get something else.”
Bronwyn visibly shudders, but it doesn’t stop her from taking a bite of her omelette and giving an involuntary but obviously appreciative moan, which unfortunately goes straight to my dick. As I turn back to the stove to save both of us embarrassment, she explains as she did yesterday, but maybe after all I’ve learned, I now pay her words more attention. “Dad had me on a diet as he thought I was too fat, and for Trip, it was all he said he needed.”
No wonder the boy looks small for his age. And as for Bron, I’m about to slam the spatula down in my disgust for her father, but remember not to make any sudden moves or noises that would upset the boy. I settle for snarling, “You’re perfect as you are, Bron. Men don’t like skeletons. They like women with a bit of flesh on them.” Well, I do. Maybe I’m not qualified to speak for all of my gender.
She sighs. “Dad stopped when I was fourteen.” She doesn’t clarify what she’s alluding to, but with a nod toward Trip, I can fill in the gaps for myself without her needing to mention the abuse in front of the boy. Trip, though, seems oblivious to our conversation, and just keeps shovelling food in his mouth as if he’s afraid his plate will be taken away. “After his birth, as I said. But even before, he didn’t come to me so regularly. He didn’t like it when I started growing, well, womanly curves. I think he wanted me to lose weight and go back to being the kid I was before puberty.”
Translated as he likes them young.
My appetite for breakfast sours, yet I continue cooking automatically.
If it wasn’t for his usefulness to the club, Doc would be a dead man walking.
