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The voice in my head screams back at him, but instead of losing my shit, I stand up tall, shove any evidence of this shit show into my bag, and march out the bathroom with my head held high.
I can do this. I can take care of this myself. Squealer will never have to know. Everything can just carry on as normal, and this will go down as a severe lesson learned. I’ve got this.
Until I open the door and see him, standing by the kitchen counter, with a huge smile on his face, my little pep talk goes completely to shit.
I feel strangely good when I wake up. I’ve always been blessed with the gift of avoiding hangovers, so my head is clear, and when I open my eyes and remember that Alex stayed last night, I get an odd sense of comfort. Alex isn't beside me, but I know she ain’t gone far when I see her jacket hanging on the back of the door.
Dragging myself out of my nice warm bed, I head straight for the shower, hoping I can catch her before she gets out. The door’s locked, so figure she’s being cautious because of Screwy. I bet she’s soaping herself up real good. I actually like the idea of her using my shower, washing with my sponge. Damn, I’m even feeling cool enough to let her use my toothbrush.
“You in there, darlin’?” I tap the door hoping for an invitation in.
“Yeah, I’ll be out in a second,” she responds, and I smile a really goofy smile back at the door before I stride into the kitchen and flick the coffee machine on.
“She stayed then?” My brother emerges from his room in a pair of loose-fitting sweatpants.
“Yep, and you know what, Screw? it feels kinda liberating,” I tell him, pulling two mugs from the cupboard and getting the pan off the draining board. I flip it in my hand before placing it on the stove and then root through the fridge for some eggs.
“You even know what that word means?” He stares at me doubtfully.
“Screw you,” I respond, taking out some milk, eggs, and butter before I whisk up the eggs in a protein shaker.
“You must like her.” Screwy pops two slices of bread into the toaster and leans back on the worktop. “Ain’t seen you this buzzed since you scored with those contortionist twins last summer.”
“Will you keep your damn voice down,” I whisper-shout at him. Fucker chooses never to be heard, and now he decides to find his fucking vocals. “I don’t want her hearing shit like that about me.”
“Holy shit!” Screwy laughs at me. He actually fucking laughs. The low deep chuckle rumbling from his throat that it feels years since I’ve heard. “You got it bad for this one. Boy, are you in trouble.”
“Am I really, though?” I shrug, taking his toast out of the toaster and plopping them onto his plate, and he glares at me as I pop two slices in after, one for me and one for her.
“It’s just an extra slice in the toaster, an extra mug. A couple extra eggs.” I pour them into the pan, feeling pretty good at how I’m handling all this.
“Sure, keep telling yourself that,” Screw shrugs, taking a butter knife from the cutlery drawer.
Alex comes out of the bathroom.
“Mornin’ darlin’.” I go straight to her, pressing a kiss on her forehead. “I’m making breakfast, have a seat.” I smile sarcastically at my brother as I point the spatula I’m holding at a chair around the table.
Okay, so maybe we’ll have to get another chair around the table if she’s gonna make a habit of staying, but you know what, that’s okay too. I can deal with this shit.
“Actually, I kinda need to talk to you… in private.” Alex looks up at me awkwardly, begging to be fucked when she bites her lip. She knows I get hard when she does that.
“Sure.” I give her my full attention, and her eyes move to the back of Screwy's head. He’s too busy spreading butter on his toast and inwardly mocking me to give a shit.
“Oh, whatever you want to say, you can say in front of him, ain't like he’s gonna tell anyone.” I wink at her, and Screwy twists his neck to give me a death stare.
“I really think we should just go to your room,” she says, her cheeks starting to flush.
“Come on, how bad can it be?” I move toward Screw and slap him on his bare back. “You ain't shy are ya, bro?”
“I’m pregnant,” she blurts the words out, and the sound of Screwy’s knife scraping over the dry bread stops. He drops the knife, throws me a look, and marches to his room like he used to when we were kids, and he knew trouble was coming.
I pull my mouth shut and look back at Alex, whose chest is lifting up and down at a frantic rate, her eyes wide and searching for my reaction.
“Did you just… Did you say you were…?”
“Yeah,” she interrupts, pulling something from her back pocket and laying it out on the table I was planning on feeding, then fucking, her on.
“Ummm, I guess the reason you're telling me is because…”
