Page 70 of Deceived Wrath

“I promise.”

“Good. Now, how about some breakfast? I’m starving and in the mood for chocolate chip pancakes.”

The mention of chocolate within five minutes of waking up is enough to dry Scout’s tears. He practically drags me down the stairs and into the kitchen where Ray is sitting at the small round table, drinking a cup of black coffee.

“What do you say to Ray?” I whisper in Scout’s ear.

Scout hangs his head. “Sorry, Ray.”

Ray, despite his full sleeves of tattoos and shaved head, which sports a few scars from his glory days, instantly melts as Scout throws his arms around his neck.

Ray ruffles Scout’s hair. “You’re a pain in my ass, you know that, kid?”

“Yeah, I know.” Scout sighs, and I swallow a laugh.

He looks at Ray under his lashes. “Do you want some pancakes?”

“Is that code for ‘I want pancakes’?”

“Maybe…” Scout grins, and Ray reluctantly gets to his feet.

I don’t miss the way he winces as he shifts all of his weight to his left knee.

“I’ve got this.” I clap Ray on the shoulder.

He gives me a grateful nod before disappearing down the hall toward his room.

It’s only been a few weeks since I last saw him, but somehow, the man looks older.

I always knew I was going to have to bring Scout home eventually, but it seems like my timeline has just been moved up.

Scout pouts. “Do you really have to go back?”

It’s not much past noon, but I have to make a quick stop before I can head to the airport to catch my three o’clock flight.

As much as I would love to stay for a few days and gorge myself on pancakes and play endless games of Mario Kart, I need to get back to New York. Even a day away from the office will cause havoc, and the sooner I can get things set up for Scout to move over there, the better.

I crouch down in front of Scout. “Yeah, bud. I do.”

“But I don’t want you to go.” Tears well in his eyes.

“I know.”

“Then why can’t you stay?”

“Because I need to make sure your new room is going to be ready.”

The edges of Scout’s mouth pull down into a frown. “My roomisready.”

“I mean, your room in New York.”

It takes a second for Scout to register what I’m saying, but then his eyes instantly light up. “I get to come to New York?”

“At the end of the month.”

“Do you pinky swear that I get to come?”

I hold out my pinky finger, and Scout wraps his own around it.