“You’re right, you’re right,” Damian said, then swore loudly. “The eggs.”
I bit back a laugh as Damian scraped at the pan, trying to salvage the breakfast. Zero nudged my hand with his snout so I offered him a little head stroke.
“You know, we have people that can do this for us,” Axel said. “They’re called chefs, and they excel at things like eggs. They also didn’t grow up cracking eggs on their foreheads like sociopaths. Maybe you’ve heard of them?”
“I am going to chef you in the ass if you don’t shut up,” Damian said as he snapped off the burner.
“Just trying to help.” Axel clapped him on the shoulder. To me, he said, “Let’s get back to the important issues. You were saved by Seven—bless this man. Perpetrator is pending payback, right?”
“Working on it,” Seven said.
“Good. Where do we go from here?”
“My advice is to abandon the apartment entirely.” The grit of Seven’s bass voice scraped through me. “It’s failed every security check presented so far. It’s a shithole.”
“But it’s my shithole,” I said, now fully petting Zero’s glossy head. He plopped his big butt next to me and his tongue hung out as I stroked his fur.
Damian smiled sadly, his mossy green gaze growing nostalgic. “I’ve felt that way about a place in Chinatown a time or two.”
“She needs new housing immediately.” Seven’s tone left no room for argument.
“Okay. So, let’s tackle new housing.” Axel clapped his hands, brows scrunching together in thought. “Where do you want to live, Jordan? You pick. We’ll pay.”
I cleared my throat. Maybe I was approaching this all wrong—who wouldn’t love the blank check scenario after a lifetime of foster care and barely scraping by? But even though Axel and Damian had all the Warbucks vibes, I was no Annie. Not at this point in my life.
“I can’t accept that,” I told them, dropping down to be on Zero’s level. I stroked the fur of his back, all the way down to his stubby, wagging tail. I had a soft spot in my heart for pets—I’d always wanted one, but never had any growing up. “I need to support myself.”
Damian dropped his chin, giving me a come on look. “We can pay.”
“I would feel more comfortable staying within a budget I know I can continue without help,” I said. Zero let out a soft bark, which I took as his agreement.
Axel frowned. “You don’t think we’ll be able to pay for it indefinitely? The SEC case….it hasn’t been finalized. But even if we go to prison—”
“Can we not say that word?” Damian interjected softly, his eyes pinching shut.
“—We’re preparing for what comes next,” Axel went on. “And that would include continuing things like an apartment for you.”
Damian had been right on the phone earlier that week. The tension that had descended over the kitchen proved there was a lot I didn’t know. But Axel wasn’t even remotely right about my reservations. This was a matter of pride.
“I’ve worked hard to build my life. It would be a cop out to just let you guys take over. It wouldn’t be…mine.
Axel nodded. “I get that. But what if we pay, like, half?”
“Like a farm subsidy,” Damian added.
“Like the subsidies Mr. Grady probably received only to have you crack eggs on your forehead,” Axel said to Damian.
Damn, they were comical. I didn’t remember them like this from my childhood. But then again, we’d never met in relaxed circumstances, ever. It was always a stiff visit arranged by care workers, a stolen moment before or after school, a random meeting in a public space, like the mall.
“I’ve lived my entire life without help from you.” I focused on the dark brown hair of Zero’s coat as I dragged my fingers through it. “I don’t plan on changing that now.”
“What if you moved in here?” Damian asked. “We’re not here all the time. And there’s plenty of room for you. You could have a whole floor if you wanted.”
“I’d rather not live with strange men.”
Axel winced. “Ouch.”
“Is there a getting-to-know-each-other phase that we can formally begin?” Damian asked. “Because I feel like I’ve been trying to change that strange part…”