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“So, would now be a good time to tell you I invited them over for breakfast?”
“You did what?” I gawk at her, sure I misheard, because there’s no way, no fucking way, she invited Ace Jagger and his brothers to breakfast.
At. Our. House.
Guilt fills her expression. “With James away for the weekend, I wanted them to feel at home, you know?”
“Mom, really?” I let out a heavy sigh. “This is our house. After... I just thought you’d be more careful.”
“Sweetheart.” Mom gives me a sad smile. “I know they’re a little ro
ugh around the edges, but they haven’t had it easy...” She hesitates, staring out at the ocean.
“What happened to them, Mom?” I find myself asking. Because no way can someone be as angry and sadistic as Ace without some kind of deep childhood trauma.
I should know.
“I don’t know the whole story, baby. James seemed very distressed when he told me he was taking them in. But I do know that Ace... he found her.”
My breath catches. “H-he found her?”
Mom nods. “Overdose. Apparently Maria never really recovered after their dad died. She turned to drugs and alcohol and Ace was forced to grow up overnight to care for his brothers.”
“Wow, I didn’t know...” My voice trails off. I can’t imagine what that must have been like for them. It’s no wonder he seems so... damaged.
“So now you know why I want to make them feel as welcome as possible. Sterling Bay is like shark-infested waters.” Mom’s lips thin. “They’re already going to be swimming in uncharted territory without us making it more difficult on them.”
“Nice visuals, Mom,” I chuckle.
“I’m just saying, it wouldn’t hurt for you to try to be nice to them.”
She begins plating up a stack of pancakes just as Ace appears at the French doors.
Crap.
I’m still in my oversized holey Rolling Stones t-shirt with untamed bed hair. But before I can make a run for it, Mom has opened the door and invited him in. “Ace, we’re so happy you could join us.”
“Conner didn’t give me much choice.”
Just then, Cole and Conner enter our small kitchen.
“Something smells good,” Conner rubs his stomach, wearing that easy smile of his.
“Yeah, it does.” Ace’s eyes darken on me. I grab the glass of orange juice Mom poured me earlier and drink it down.
“How’s the hand?” I raise a brow, and he smirks.
“It was worth it.”
Asshole.
“Remi told me you were fighting.” Mom cuts Ace with her best stare. “That’s not going to win you any popularity contests.”
“I’m not looking to make friends, Mrs—“
“Sarah. You can call me Sarah. Now come on, make yourselves at home. I made pancakes and bacon, and there’s fresh fruit.”
“This looks great, Sarah.” Conner wastes no time sitting at the table and helping himself to four pancakes. I push the syrup toward him. “Thanks,” he replies.
