Page 90 of Unhinged
Her nostrils flare—just the slightest shift. She's scenting for lies. I let her. I got nothing to hide.
“So, what time does this party start?”
“Nine. Mom already offered to keep Judge. Dillon will be there too.”
She exhales, some of the steel leaving her spine. “Perfect. Thank you.”
“Welcome.” I pull back before I lose my goddamn mind. “Come to the kitchen when you’re ready. I saved you bacon and eggs.”
“I will.” She smiles.
I stand, my hand lingering on her thigh longer than it should, not quite ready to let go.
She takes another sip of coffee, eyes flicking toward the window. “I should call the school. See what I can do for Judge. And I need to check in with Ike... make sure things are still clean on his end.”
I nod, brushing my thumb over her knee. “Alright. Let me know what he says. And if you need anything...I got you.”
Her gaze meets mine. There’s that quiet strength again.
Again, I kiss her, soft and slow. She leans into it, and I swear shemelts.One second longer and I’ll be dragging the blankets back down.
I force myself to walk out before I give in to the pull of her all over again.
She keeps letting me in—little by little—and if she’s not careful, she’s gonna end up with an alpha in her bed full time.
The second I shut her door behind me, I drag a hand down my face and take a breath. Deep. Slow. Useless.
She wrecks me.
It takes everything I’ve got not to turn around and climb right back into that bed.
Instead, I head down the hall. The scent of Toaster Strudel hits before I even turn the corner. Sugar, fake cherry, and whatever suspicious-ass icing packet came with it.
Judge is perched on one of the chairs, swinging his feet. Acid’s across from him at the stove, tattooed arms crossed as he watches the kid eat like he’s running intel.
The door opens and in walks Bat, grease on his knuckles and a smirk on his face. Keg’s right behind him, carrying some kind of toolbox and a bottle of Gatorade.
“Morning, little man,” Bat says, ruffling Judge’s hair as he passes. “You saving any of that for me?”
Judge grins around a mouthful of strudel. “Nope.”
Keg chuckles and bumps Acid’s shoulder with a fist. “He’s one of us already, huh?”
Acid just shrugs, but there’s the faintest twitch of a smile on his face. “Smart kid knows not to share.”
“You know,” I say, tapping the back of Judge’s chair as I pass on my way to the coffee pot, “you keep feeding him sugar like that, he’s gonna start climbing the damn walls.”
Acid doesn’t look away from the kid. “Kid was already up and had one in the toaster before I even hit the hallway. Can’t blame me for speed.”
Judge just shrugs, mouth full. “They’re good. And the icing’s the best part.”
I smirk and pour myself a cup. “You hear that, Acid? You’ve been replaced by a six-pack of frozen pastries.”
“He’ll learn.” Acid finally cracks a smile, short and sharp. “The icing’s a lie. Like peace treaties and brake warranties. Brydgett coming down soon?” he asks, side-eyeing me like he already knows the answer.
“She’s drinking her coffee,” I say, sipping mine like it doesn’t taste like absolute shit compared to the one I brought her. “Said she’s calling the school about Judge. Checking in with Ike.”
Judge shifts in his seat at the mention of school, pretending not to listen but clearly catching every word.
