Page 107 of Outcast
Bailey shifted down the counter. “I’ll get you some coffee.”
Oh, sure. Now he wanted to play the role of sweet little brother.
“I hope it wasn’t too presumptuous, me cooking breakfast?” Emory said quietly. “I wanted to thank you for last night. I totally melted down, and you were so great about it. Talk about ruining the afterglow, right?”
I flipped off the burner, then took his chin in my hand and kissed him. I didn’t give a shit that Bailey was a few feet away. I needed Emory to understand. “You didn’t ruin anything, golden boy. You’ve kept a lot of things inside. Things you probably need to share. And I’m happy to be the one to listen.”
He wet his lips, gaze flicking over my shoulder to keep tabs on Bailey. “You’ve had it so much worse, though. It’s kind of silly that I’m such a mess about this one thing, isn’t it? I mean, you lost two sets of parents.”
My lips twisted. “Yeah, well, it’s not a competition. I have my brothers. They’ve all got scars too. Some worse than mine. But thanks to them, I’m got support when I need it, and so do you now.”
His eyes met mine, a glassy sheen to them. My words had hit the mark. Before he could say anything more, Holden stomped in, looking like death warmed over.
“What’s going on in here?” he grumbled.
“Breakfast,” I said. “Emory is cooking. Isn’t that nice of him?”
Holden caught the warning tone in my voice. “Very nice. Thanks, Emory. I need coffee and grease to soak up the booze.”
“One upside to not being old enough to drink,” Bailey said cheerfully. “I feel great.”
“You just wait, kid.” Holden grabbed the coffee cup Bailey had just filled for me. “Your time is coming.”
Emory turned the burner back on. “I’m making Bailey over-easy eggs. Let me know what the rest of you want.”
“That’s good for me,” I said.
“Over hard, if you don’t mind,” Holden said. “I can’t handle yolk running all over my plate.”
I snorted. Typical for my control freak brother. But that begged the question, whydidhe drink so much last night? It wasn’t like him.
I moseyed over and took Bailey’s half-drunk coffee from him. I raised it for a sip, ignoring his whining about coffee thieves.
“What happened to keeping a clear head?” I asked Holden. “I didn’t think you drank much.”
“I don’t,” he said shortly. “But after you left, Axel kept plying me with shots. Playing along was the only way to keep him away from Deputy Handsy.”
I snorted. “Is that what we’re all calling Dalton Harvey now?”
“He’s got some sort of interest in Axel. I can’t tell if he wants to fuck him or make his life hell. I think it’s better if we don’t find out. You know he works with that fuckhead, Sheriff Hale. He’s bad news.”
I grimaced. Dallas’s father hadn’t been sheriff when I left town, but he’d been a deputy, and he’d relished the opportunity to go on power trips, breaking up parties, pulling us over for simply being foster kids no one liked, threatening to toss us into jail for asinine reasons.
I should have known Dallas would be no better, but I was a sex-starved, closeted gay kid, and I’d taken a gamble and lost. It made me cringe a little that I’d let my standards sink so low.
“Okay, Bailey and Holden, your plates are ready,” Emory called.
Bailey grinned like a little kid. “Yes, thank you!”
I rejoined Emory by the stove, sliding my hand across his back. “What can I do to help?”
“Can you carry everything else to the table? I’ll be done in just a few minutes.”
I nodded. “You got it.”
Bailey dug into his breakfast, moaning and groaning like he was having a one-man orgy. I carried the stack of remaining pancakes and bacon to the table while Emory finished the last of the eggs.
Holden dished up his plate but waited for us like a civilized man.
