Page 127 of Pretty Broken Wings

He tries to flip it again, and I take it. “This is the right way, I promise.”

“What are you getting?”

I look at the menu for the first time. I see steaks and pasta bowls and fish, and fuck, my mouth starts watering.

And then I see the prices.

Fuck.

I hastily scan the menu, trying to find the cheapest option and pretending like I just can’t decide.

“You?”

“I always get the steak dinner meal.” Gage leans back. “Axel always gets the pizza.”

The prices on both are more than I could ever imagine paying for food. Jesus Christ. Finally, I scan to the bottom and find something that’s at least a little more reasonable.

“You come here with Axel?” I ask, a little surprised. I thought they hated each other.

“When Mom forces us to on birthdays.” Gage shakes his head, then settles into a thoughtful silence.

I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to hate my brother. Or to have Axel as a brother. I always wanted siblings growing up, but I guess not like this.

When the hostess returns, Gage orders a steak, and I ask for the grilled cheese. After she leaves, Gage turns to me. “I fucking love grilled cheese.”

It looks weird to see Gage, all pressed shirt and styled hair, completely comfortable in this environment, cussing like that.

“Me too.”

“We used to make fancy grilled cheese when times were tight.” Gage leans back in his seat, exposing his strong torso. Jesus. I’ve never seen him work out. How the hell does he look like this?

I’m entirely grateful he can’t see me ogling him ‘cause I snap my gaze up to his. His eyes are locked on mine. Oh shit. Maybe he can see it.

“Fancy grilled cheese?” I manage to say.

“Yep. You caramelize onions and butter both sides of the bread with bacon fat before frying.”

My mouth waters at the thought.

“If you had bacon fat. Sometimes, we just used margarine.”

“You know the best kind of struggle meal is cinnamon sugar toast,” I say.

“Oh my god!” Gage’s eyes light up, and he sits up straight. “The best!”

We fall into easy conversation after that. Occasionally, Gage’s hand slides down to brush my back. It makes me shiver every time, and the wild part of me wishes he’d touch me more.

But he doesn’t. By the end of the night, I’m twitching with all the small touches. I wish I’d had a glass of wine with my meal to relax my body’s reaction to Gage, but I didn’t, and now I’m stuck feeling his touch like a live wire to my skin. It makes me hot and flushed and fucking turned on.

I’m not sure if Gage feels the same way. He’s his normal stoic self, although he laughs a lot more than he ever did.

When we get through with the meal, Gage grabs the bill faster than I thought he could. I hesitate, expecting a joke about how he’s paying me to be here.

But it never comes.

When we walk back out to the car in the cold wind, Gage pushes me to the driver’s side and opens the door. Then he pulls something out of his pocket. “You forgot something, m’lady.” It’s the sword.

I laugh, taking it.