“Night, bud,” Ry replied.
“Night, little man,” Axel added, coming over to move his large hand over Mad’s head and back.
I took my time putting Maddox down, giving the two brothers some time to talk. I could tell Axel had more to say and probably didn’t want to reprimand Ry in front of me.
When I headed back out to the living room, Ryker was on his way out. “Thanks for the grub.” He shot me a chin lift, his mouth still full of food.
“Have fun, Ry,” I waved.
We soon heard the boom of his bike and its resonating rumble as it took off down the road.
“He can be such a little shit,” Axel shook his head, though his tone held no anger.
I continued to eat without reply, knowing he wasn’t really expecting one.
“Mad go down okay?”
“Yeah,” I nodded.
“He might sleep a little better with a real crib in there,” he hinted.
It wasn’t the first time he’d pressed me about officially moving in. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to. I did. I just wanted to take my time getting there. Part of me worried that this was all too good to be true. I couldn’t really have it all…could I?
“He might,” I answered vaguely.
“What do you wanna watch?” he sighed, claiming the remote.
“Vikings?” I asked with a cocked brow, knowing that’s what he wanted. It was still the only show we could agree on.
“Sounds good,” he nodded.
“You okay?” I asked quietly.
He turned to look at me, seeming to consider his response for a minute. “Yeah,” he shrugged.
I continued to watch him out of the corner of my eye.
“What do you want to know?” he grumbled, running a hand over his beard.
“What do you mean?” I asked with my best innocent expression.
He snorted. “You’re practically in pain over there holding in your questions.”
I blushed at how well he could read me. “I do have a few,” I admitted cautiously. “Where’s your dad?”
“Getting right to it huh?” he chuckled darkly.
I shrugged, biting my lip.
“In jail,” Axel replied without emotion as he sipped his beer.
I tried to hide my surprise – that certainly wasn’t the answer I’d been expecting. “For what?” I asked carefully.
His eyes remained on the screen as I turned to face him, awaiting his answer. “Attempted murder,” he answered curtly.
I waited for him to elaborate but he didn’t, and I wasn’t sure how hard to push. It wasn’t just a lack of desire to share – no, this ran deeper, something akin to shame. I’d do anything to rid him of that baggage even if it meant sharing some of my own.
“My mother locked me in my room every night for a month,” I blurted before I could stop myself.
