Page 59 of Finding Hope

“Hmm?”

“You made pancakes with flour and milk and stuff?”

Her brows pull low with curiosity. “Yeah…?”

“Oh my God!” Evie whoops excessively. “She made them from scratch, Uncle Jack!”

“Is that a problem?”

“No! Not a problem, it’s cool.”

“I’ll clean up my mess.”

“No, it’s fine. And the older girls will clean up the mess.”

Bean’s glaring eyes snap to mine. “That’s not fair! I didn’t tease.”

“Kincaid! Miss T made you breakfast. You’ll eat it. You’ll tell her it was delicious – even if it’s a lie. Then you’ll clean the damn dishes.”

“You shouldn’t say damn,” she grumbles. When I purse my lips and glare back, she rolls her eyes. “Fine, we’ll clean the damn dishes.”

Fuck. Why did my family have to breed such smartasses? This is all Kincaid blood. Nothing to do with me.

Helping me set the toddlers at the table, Britt delivers platters of bacon and pancakes, drops bottles of syrup, then she hovers around the table andwatches on as the next ten minutes of our lives is like a scene out of Animal Planet: Africa.

I’m certain there are actual elephants trumpeting and lions growling. The smaller kids turn to sticky messes within minutes, and the table turns into a hodgepodge of mixed food and greasy bacon fat flung between cousins.

Just like Britt, I hover and cut pancakes into bite-sized pieces, ration syrup, and watch as the platter of pancakes is replenished every couple minutes as Bambie moves back and forth between dining room and kitchen.

I feel bad that she isn’t eating, that she’s basically working on a Saturday, but I’m not sitting or eating either, and I can’t deny that she’s helping.

Just as quickly as the kids sat and started eating, it all ends; plates are empty, cups are turned over, cutlery is sticky because the kids alternated between fingers and utensils, and the tablecloth is stained from these animals using it to wipe their faces instead of the wipes I provided.

“You’re all pigs.”

Laughing, Bambie stands at the doorway with a hot cup of coffee in her hands and long hair dangling down her back. “That was a lot of pancakes.”

“Give me five minutes, Bambie. I’ll get these guys sorted, put a movie on, then I’ll make you breakfast. We can eat in silence as soon as the TV goes on.”

“No, it’s fine. I cooked extras for you. Your plate’s in the oven. It’s still warm. But I better get going.”

Stopping with a twin suspended halfway between the booster chair and the floor, I frown andtryto dismiss the twinge in my gut. “You’re gonna go?”

Nodding, she sips lazily. “Yeah, I really need to go. I have stuff to do, and my brothers will come searching soon.”

Laughing again, I set Luke on his feet and pat his butt to move him along. Smugness, mixed with a little terror, washes through my body at the thought of Alex and Scotch Turner knocking on my front door in search of their little sister.

I legitimately talked shit with them about the hot chick I fucked at the club. Thank God I didn’t say her name – seeing as I didn’t know it.

“God forbid those guys come looking.”

Shaking her head, she laughs and turns to move back to the kitchen. “I don’t know how you know my brothers, but I’m not getting in the middle. It’s probably in your best interest tonottell them about… what we did. I’ll never volunteer that information. So if they find out, that’s on you.” Placing her mug in the sink, she turns back and smiles. “I’m going to get changed. I’ll leave your sister’s clothes in the hamper, is that cool?”

“You can just take them. We have a million of those shirts.”

She scoffs. “You couldn’t pay me enough to go home in a Rollin gym tank. Even if it’s a girls top. But thanks anyway.”

Walking toward me, she passes close enough that I feel her hair on my arm, but then she’s gone, picking up her school clothes and bag, and heading down the hallway.

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