Page 49 of Laurels and Liquor

She gives Caleb another glare and then gets up and saunters over to sit at the kitchen island counter. “I’d bet him that your pack would become one giant queer fuck puddle by the time you went into heat again. The Albanian Asshole—”

“I’m not from Albania!” Caleb interjects loudly, accent coming forward a little more.

Gabby rolls her eyes before continuing. “Hesaid that would never happen because Mateo and Lex would never knock boots. He was stupid enough to doubt me and my absolutely infallible sexual tension detecting skills.”

“I can’t believe you’re placing bets about our sex lives,” I scold, but my smile betrays me.

“The conditions haven’t been fully met, anyway,” Caleb protests, either not hearing me or ignoring me.

As Gabby pauses to think, Lucas and I share a look. It’s up to him if he wants to rain on Caleb’s parade, and judging by the spark of mischief in his steel-blue eyes, he’s more than happy to stir the pot.

“Hate to break it to ya, my guy. But you’re going to have to pay up,” Lucas drawls, his voice full of fake remorse.

Gabby gasps dramatically, slamming her hands on the counter. “You. Did. NOT! You and—and you—babe, you knew—”

I snort and continue plating toast. “Oh, I’ve known. And witnessed,” I reply cryptically, trying to hide my blush.

“And you didn’t fucking tell me! You bitch!” Gabby exclaims, trailing off into laughter even as Caleb groans from the couch.

“What can I say? It’s not my fault that no one can keep their hands off me,” Lucas snarks, striking a pose to flex his muscles.

I scoff and laugh, about to protest, but my phone pings again. This time, with a message from my brother.

Jason: Hey. What are you doing this week?

Me: Apartment hunting with Gabby. Why?

Jason: No reason.

I roll my eyes and show the messages to Gabby, who’s sulking a little now. Her mouth pulls down in a little frown of confusion before she looks back at me.

“What’s going on with him? He’s been super cryptic with me lately,” I ask, shoving my phone away and moving to find plates.

Gabby shrugs, but stays uncharacteristically silent. And as I turn back to her, I realize she’s blushing.

“Spill. What the hell has he told you?” I demand, setting the plates on the counter next to Lucas and rounding on her.

She opens her mouth like she’s about to start speaking, but then closes it again. I give her a hard stare, but she looks away, blushing deeper now.

“He’s been going through it, and he doesn’t want to worry you, okay? It’s not like he’s hurt or anything,” Gabby groans, words tumbling out as she can’t keep them in any longer.

I sigh, not sure how to respond. I don’t like him keeping me in the dark, but I’m glad he’s talking to someone. Things down there can’t be easy after the mess I left behind. I wish I knew how to fix it, or to get my family to go away and leave me alone. Unlike other members of my pack, I don’t care enough about them anymore to want to see them ruined or disgraced. I just want to live my life without having to look over my shoulder all the damn time.

“I know that look. Don’t start feeling guilty for shit that doesn’t have anything to do with you. Jason’s a whole ass adult and can handle his business without his big sister trying to interfere,” Gabby says sternly, even going as far as to wag a finger in my face.

I purse my lips, knowing she’s right. I want to help, but doing anything right now would probably hurt more than it would help. He’ll tell me when the time is right, I’m sure.

“So how many times do you think Lex and Mateo are going to fuck before they get back?” Lucas says, masterfully changing the subject.

We move to the dining table, Caleb joining us to eat. Gabby and Lucas go back and forth, wildly speculating about Mateo and Lex’s hook up, and I let myself get lost in their banter. I can’t let go of the nagging worry in the back of my mind, but I can push it far enough back to not let it spoil the day. And that’s good enough for now.

Chapter twenty-three

Lucas

ThemorningafterMateoand Lex returned from their fuck-cation—or business trip, as they keep trying to call it—I’m lounging on one of the sofas in Lex’s boudoir, watching her as she gets ready for work. I’m in sweatpants, sans shirt, and I can feel the watery rays of autumn sunlight hitting the backs of my arms where they’re spread out on either side of me along the back of the sofa. This is a late start for Lex, but she did wear both of us out pretty thoroughly last night.

“Have you talked to Rhett recently?” I question, raising my voice so she can hear me from her position at her bathroom vanity.

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