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Wrong. I am a monster and he damn well knows it. She just made it her pet.
“I don’t trust anyone with her, Bishop.”
He raises his eyes to mine. “Right, and you shouldn’t. If it wasn’t me and she wasn’t my half-sister, I would agree. But I mean it when I say that I will protect her as much as you.”
“I trust you,” I say the words I know he’s been wanting to hear me say for months. “That has never been my issue with you. You know I’d take a bullet. I just took shit out on you and our friendship that I shouldn’t have.” For the first time, I feel a peace settle between Bishop and me. Something I haven’t felt between us in a long time.
“You gonna make me breakfast since you’re pouring your heart out to me?” He smirks, and it’s the first time I’ve seen him crack even close to a smile since she left.
I throw my water bottle at his head and stand from the bench. “Fucker.”
Once we hit the main foyer and make our way into the kitchen, Saint is already in there, flipping pancakes. She’s wearing pajama shorts and an oversized tee, with her hair in a high bun and a white bandana tied to the front.
Bishop and I both tilt our heads when my eyes land on the Gandalf slippers she’s wearing.
“I don’t even have words…” Bishop interrupts and she jerks in shock, spinning around to face us.
Her skin is pale, the same color as mine, her cheeks pinched pink. Her lashes are as dark as my hair. “You scared me!”
I roll my eyes, making my way toward her while Bishop answers his ringing cell, leaving us alone.
“Do you like pancakes? I mean, I know when we were kids you liked waffles, but I can’t be bothered whisking egg whites and—”
“—they’re fine.”
She breaks off a piece of one that looks to have chocolate chips in it and brings it up to my lips. The height difference between us is comical, so she has to stretch her arm out and inch up on her tippy toes just to be able to reach my mouth. “Try them. They’re Dutch.”
Some of the shit Saint does can come off as flirty, or teasing. People can easily get the wrong idea, but that’s just her personality. Anyone who takes her the wrong way will need their brain matter scraped off the tip of my steel-toe boots.
I sink my teeth into the fluffy cooked batter, fighting a groan when the butter coats my taste buds. I chew and swallow, and just as she’s about to turn around and flip more, my hand is on her belly while my other is on the counter, caging her in. If I pull her up against my chest, it would be clear what the fuck is going on in my mind right now. Fucking crystal clear.
She doesn’t flinch, busying herself with baking. Always so unaffected. I graze my lips over the back of her ear. “When were you going to tell me that you had a boy in your bed last night, Dea,” I whisper out her middle name, burying my nose in her hair to chase the scent that’s running off of her.
What the fuck is that shit? Baby powder? Bubble gum? Fucking what? I need it.
She chuckles, dropping the newly cooked pancakes onto the plate. “You’d be amazed what you don’t see if you’re never here…”
The statement throws me off.
First of all, what the fuck does she mean?
I open my mouth as the grip I have on her slim waist tenses, but as soon as I’m about to snap at her, Bishop is back in the room.
“That was Dad. He wants us at my apartment at three p.m.”
I detach from Saint, my eyes fucking narrowed on the back of her head. “This isn’t over.” Grabbing a knife and fork from the drawer, I turn back to Bishop. “Any clue what that might be about?”
The front door opens and closes. “Morning, bitches!”
“Fuck. I liked my life better when this wasn’t the halfway house.”
Bishop slides up beside Saint while biting into a pancake. “Bound to happen. It’s only fair that you take a turn, and see it this way,” he says, his eyes glistening with ideas. “We can keep an eye on this one while we’re all here. It’s easier.”
He’s moving into the brother role rather fucking smoothly for a spoiled, only-child brat. With the exception of Abel.
“I know you’re all leaving this afternoon to Hector’s, so I’ve come to steal her for the day.” Tillie bats her long lashes up at me while placing her Balenciaga handbag on the table.
“Gonna have to swap those fancy bags for a diaper bag soon…” I tease, my mouth twitching. Couldn’t help myself.
She flips me off. “Actually, pretty sure Prada has a mothers’ line…”
