Page 139 of Pretty Broken Wings
CHAPTER SEVENTY
“Help me with the quesadillas?”
I hate the look Gage gives me. It’s like this grumpy dog that’s trying not to beg for food, but it can’t help the hopeful tail wag.
Gage doesn’t need the help. He may act helpless to get Raven’s attention, but he can make fucking melted cheese between two tortillas. He’s asking ‘cause he wants to talk. He’s not subtle.
And yet, I can’t refuse. It’s Gage.
I groan, casting one last look at the back door where the bat is. I’ll stay for lunch. That’s it.
When I get to the kitchen, Gage rubs the back of his neck, throwing a tiny glance at me before motioning at the food. He has the old glasses on, so I shoo him away from the burner. “You trying to light that towel on fire?”
I whip the towel away that got a little too close. “You fuck one time, and your head is in the clouds.”
Gage grunts. Then he glances at me again, and his shoulders are tense. I can tell he wants to ask what Raven and I were doing. If she told me about them.
“Poe was out back,” I say. “Said she was here for your soul.”
“Really?” Gage jerks his head up. “She found me? I hope there was food for her.” I hear him walk out of the room.
“Yeah, souls,” I mutter, the butter sizzling and smelling amazing.
When Gage comes back, he grabs a bag of tortillas and throws it at me.
Instead, he asks, “Where were you last night?”
Is that what he really wants to know? I butter the pan. “Frolicking in the buttercup fields.”
“Axel.”
I consider telling him I didn’t want to listen to them fuck without being invited. Instead, I go the safer route. “I was braining Max.”
Gage snorts. Then, when I don’t say anything, there’s a pause. It’s a long pause as if Gage is running every option through that analytical brain of his.
“For real?” The question is hesitant.
“Yep.” I sprinkle cheese on. Cheese is good. The more, the better, although Gage disagrees. He likes a thin snap. I wonder what Raven thinks?
“Braining how?”
“Bat.”
Silence again. It goes on for so long that I consider giving him a justification and telling him about the letter. However, the last time I tried that, he still lost his shit. May as well just get the shit-losing over with.
“You’re putting too much cheese on.”
I snap my gaze over to him. Gage’s arms are crossed.
“You’re not going to freak out?”
Gage narrows his eyes. “Is that going to undo the braining?”
“No.”
He lets out a long breath. “Did anyone see it?”
I blink. Is he really just going to accept this?
