Page 53 of Crew Princess
Race shrugged. “Who knows? I mean, they could say anything to justify it.”
Shock ran through me, spreading wide. People could get arrested at high school parties. If you were drinking or high, yes. If you were in a crew, you were targeted. But the rest...even the ones who weren’t drinking?
“All of them?” I asked.
Race nodded. “All of them. Sober or not. They were all arrested.”
Cross looked over his shoulder at me, but what was there to say? It felt wrong. It felt unjust. It felt—something was up, that’s what it felt like.
I hardened inside, and the whole feeling that something was coming just grew. I didn’t know what kind of storm it was, but I knew it would be big, and I felt like it was on our doorstep, ready to blow down our home at any moment.
I only hoped we’d all survive it.
“We gotta tell your brother,” Cross said.
I agreed, my neck stiff. “I know.”
The coffee aroma woke me, but it was the smell of toast and the sound of eggs being fried that had my stomach growling. Slipping out from under Cross’ arm, I used the bathroom, brushed my teeth, and slipped on a pair of lounge pants and a shirt before heading down the hallway.
My brother’s tattooed back greeted me first. His tattoos covered most of his body, and he twisted around, a glare on his face.
“I can’t handle this anymore, Bren.” He raised his spatula. “If Cross is going to live here, he needs to move downstairs. You know, where there’s two guestrooms? And a couch. Or, at the very least...” He focused his glare over my shoulder.
I had a second’s warning before a hand curved around my waist.
“At least wake up before I do and sneak back downstairs from now on? What do you say? Can you do that?”
Cross stepped into me, pressing a kiss to my forehead before moving away. He padded barefoot to the kitchen counter, pulling out a stool and taking a seat.
Channing watched him, still glaring. “Right. Sit there, Cross. I’m just here to make you breakfast andalsoserve it to you.”
Cross grinned, raking his hand through his hair. He left it sticking up, but it looked good.
“Do me a favor.” Cross lowered his head, still smirking at Channing. “Maybe inform us when you’re coming home at night, and I’ll be happy to set my alarm so I can sneak downstairs before you get home.”
Channing shot to his fullest height. He pivoted, setting the spatula down on the counter.
A buzz filled the air. Cross had never challenged Channing before. He had smarted back once or twice, but never like this. Not with a ring of disrespect.
My brother grew taut and rigid. “Are you fucking serio—”
Cross started laughing, dropping his hands and leaning back. “No. God, no. I’m just giving you shit. Yes, I’ll sleep downstairs from now on.”
“Oh.” The fight fled from my brother, but he was slow to pick his spatula back up. His eyes narrowed, he swept me and Cross with a stinging look. “It grates on my nerves.” He pointed the spatula at me. “And don’t give me shit about what I was like when I was your age. I don’t care if I was worse than you. I’m the adult now. This is my house, and…” His irritation was fading. He turned back to the eggs, speaking normally. “You’re better than me, anyway. You’re going to be better than me too, when you’re my age. You’ll have your shit together long before I did.”
Cross and I shared a look, frowning.
“Uh, okay.” I was too tired to argue or ask what he was talking about.
My brother was doing quite well. He hadn’t gone to prison. In my book, that was doing really well. Moving past him, I went to the fridge and grabbed some milk. “Cross, you want juice?”
“Please. Orange juice.”
After that, we did our breakfast routine, or the routine we had when all three of us were in the kitchen together.
It was a small space, so one person typically stayed out. Cross was that person this morning. I pulled out plates and handed them over. Cross took them to the table. Silverware came next. He set the table, getting everything ready for the pan of eggs. I poured the juice, and he set his glass at his spot. I poured the coffee, added milk. Cross put the cups at Channing’s and my plates. I added the condiments, and we’d just sat when Channing finished with the last of the toast. He brought over the heaping plate, carrying the pan of eggs in the other hand.
He sat at the head of the table, and Cross and I sat next to each other.
