Page 10

Chapter 9

One Big Happy Family

Ecker

I slide into the vinyl booth next to Titus, and he gives me a smirk. “I dare you to ask for unsweet tea again.”

“ Titus Cerulean. ” I gasp, clutching nonexistent pearls. “Was that a joke from you?”

“I think a joke needs a punchline. That was closer to bullying.” He shrugs then settles into the corner of the booth and the wall, stretching his arm over the back of the seat.

I know the power a good, hard fuck can have on a man, but shit, I haven’t seen Titus this laid back since way before the Trials started. Hell, if we gave him permission to touch Sinclair earlier, he might have a full-blown career in stand-up by now.

“Okay, but listen, bro, just ‘cause you’re getting laid now doesn’t mean you can replace me as the funny guy of the pack, okay?”

“ Ecker,” Sinclair hisses and kicks my shin under the table.

I balk. “What—”

“Welcome back, boys.” Barb, the server and resident ballbuster, appears from behind me, setting bundles of silverware and menus on the table. “Sinny girl, good to see you as always.”

“Thanks, Barb, you too.”

“I already know what the lady’s gettin’, but you boys need a minute?” she asks, twirling her pen between her long red fingernails.

“Please, thank you,” Bishop says politely with a warm smile.

She gives him a wink. “Alright then.”

“Oh don’t you start.” I groan at him. “If Titus starts making jokes and you start charming moms, what’s going to be left for me? MILFs were my thing.”

Sinclair laughs. “You can have the moms.” She gives me a smirk. “I’m pretty sure Barb’s a grandma.” She turns to Bishop and gives him the same playful look. “Speaking of, I didn’t know you liked them older?”

“I like them short and blonde and . . .” He grabs her around the waist and pulls her onto his lap. “ A pain in my ass, ” he teases, nuzzling into her neck and pressing a kiss behind her ear.

“You just described Barb.” She giggles and leans back into Bishop’s touch.

“I’m gonna be sick,” Titus mutters with an eye roll, and I laugh.

Well, I guess a good fuck can’t fix everything .

Sinclair’s like a feral street dog—it takes a lot to gain her trust and affection. She’s scrappy, defensive, not scared of shit, and ready to fight at the drop of a hat. She’s softened a lot since we first met, but like any street dog, old habits die hard.

I’m reminded of this fact when I try to dip a fry in her ranch dressing. She gives me a look that asks how much I like my balls being attached to my body.

I pull my fry back in surrender, and she gives me a sugary sweet smile. “Good decision.”

“ Vicious .” I chuckle and shake my head.

“You gotta respect a woman’s right to ranch.” She laughs then smugly takes a bite of a sauce-dipped chicken tender. She finishes then asks, “What’s your ‘ranch’?”

“Your pussy,” I reply matter-of-factly, and she nearly chokes on her sweet tea.

Once she recovers, she clarifies, “I mean what’s your favorite meal?”

I tongue my cheek. “I know what you meant.”

“You’re ridiculous.” She blushes, fighting a smile. “Okay, fine, what was your favorite meal growing up?”

“Microwave nachos, hands down. The way the cheese would get crispy and burned in places, mm, mm, mm .”

“Just cheese and chips?” she asks.

“If we were feeling crazy, my dad would add some beans and scallions, chopped tomatoes if we didn’t have any salsa.”

She leans forward. “Was your dad the main cook?”

“I don’t know if microwave nachos count as cooking, but yes. He also made a mean Bolognese and ribs—fuck, his ribs were good. He’d cook them all day, and they’d just fall off the bone. Do you guys remember them?” I ask Bishop and Ti, a nostalgic burn warming my chest.

“Yeah, they didn’t even need sauce,” Titus says and nods to Bishop. “With your mom’s rice and peas? The perfect meal.”

“I could eat those every day,” he agrees with a warm but pained smile, one I feel in my bones.

“You guys ate together a lot?” Sinclair asks with genuine interest.

“Most weekend nights,” I respond.

“There was a year when we were homeschooled, and we had every meal together. Our parents would rotate, someone taking breakfast, lunch, and dinner each day,” Bishop recalls, polishing off his last bite.

“Homeschool?” She sits up as if fascinated.

“Didn’t last long.” Titus half-scoffs, half-chuckles. “Our parents would probably be in jail for murder if they didn’t send us back to school.”

“Yeah, that would have been a real bummer for me.” She flashes an almost shy smile at him, and I’m pretty sure a touch of pink brightens his olive cheeks.

Titus blushing, my god. It makes me want to grin ear to ear, but I try to play it cool, knowing he will only clam up if I do. I like how things are right now. I really like it.

Sinclair picks at her cuticles as the four of us walk down the abandoned school’s corridors, her brow slightly furrowed and eyes fixed unseeingly on the ground. Before I pry, I try to suss out her emotions through the bond.

Nervous. Guilty . . . and something that feels a lot like embarrassment. I understand why she’d be feeling the first two, but not embarrassment.

I sweep her hand and draw circles on her palm with my thumb. “What’s in that pretty head, baby girl?”

She scrunches her nose then admits. “I feel like I need to tell her the truth about us and the Trials. She deserves to know why someone tried to kill her.”

“But?” I ask, sensing her reservation.

“What if . . .” She stops walking, bouncing her foot up and down anxiously. “What if her heart can’t take it?”

I almost laugh, but the genuine concern in her face stops me. I push her hair back, cupping her face with both palms. “You survived hell and all its monsters . Your mother rose from the dead. And the rest of the women in your family have spent decades successfully hiding right under the noses of the most powerful shadow organization in the country. What makes you think your grandma isn’t just as tough and twice as stubborn? It’s going to take a whole lot more than a little lie to kill one of you Ash women.”

She bites her lip, fighting a grin. “You make some good points.”

“Of course, I do.” I let go of her hand to wrap my arm around her shoulders instead, hooking her tight to my side. “Stick with me, baby. I have all the answers.”

She laughs and continues walking, but not before giving me a good ol’ elbow to the ribs. God, I love her.

I stop before going inside the science classroom. “Wait, if we are going to tell her that we don’t actually work for old Mr. Barnes, does this mean I have to give up being the hot pool boy?”

“I thought you had all the answers?” Titus mocks, pushing past me inside.

“Well, if it’s up to me—”

“It’s not. Let’s go.” Sinclair chuckles and grabs my arm, pulls me in after her.

Doc is the first to greet us. “Miss Cora’s awake for now. But it’s almost time for her next dose of pain meds, which will have her out for a while.”

“Where’s Celia?” Sin asks next, looking around expectantly, as if her mom is going to jump out and scare her.

He gestures toward the back door. “Having a smoke.”

The sterile plastic tent from surgery has been taken down and her grandma is sitting up in a hospital bed, looking out the big windows facing the schoolyard.

“Hey, Ma.” Sinclair pulls a chair closer to the bed and swivels the bed’s attached table into place. She sets a take-out bag down. “Brought you something.”

“You’re too good to me.” The old lady’s voice is far raspier than the first time I met her, but the light in her eyes for her granddaughter still shines just as bright.

Sinclair helps her with the bag, pulling out a slice of pecan pie and a Styrofoam soda cup full of sweet tea.

“Don’t let him see you bringing this in here.” She shoots the doctor an accusatory but playful look.

Sinclair pops the straw into the cup and holds it out for her grandma to sip. “Is he not feeding you well?”

“Oh, it’s horrible. Everything is green.” She waves her hand in the air. “And he won’t let me have any coffee.”

“Now, that’s just cruel,” Sinclair agrees with a dramatic gasp.

“Right, elder abuse.” Cora huffs, and then they both break down into a fit of giggles.

Once recovered, Sinclair sighs like she’s mentally preparing herself. “Ma, I have to tell you something.”

“Now, this wouldn’t have anything to do with those hunky alphas you keep bringing ‘round and some deadly Trials, would it?”

Sinclair nearly falls off her chair, and I don’t blame her. Titus, Bishop, and I all exchange panicked glances that silently ask who told her?!

“How did you figure it out?” Sinclair asks in disbelief.

“I told her.” We all spin around at the newcomer’s voice.

Celia explains that she assumed her mother’s attack was retaliation for something she did. “I figured I’d pissed off some John or dealer I owed money found out I was still alive. I went to the Doll House to find out. That’s when the girls told me that you were there and who took you.”

“And you realized the Echelon was probably responsible, not you,” Bishop pieces together.

“Exactly. So, when Mom woke up after surgery, I said as much, thinking she already knew all about the tribute and Trials.”

“Imagine my surprise,” Cora tries to say playfully, but it turns into a pained croak. She keeps wincing at the smallest movements.

“Just a few more minutes, Doc,” she asks when he goes to up her pain meds. Her and Sin spend a little bit longer together before she calls him back over. Within five minutes, she’s fast asleep.

“We should talk about her discharge plans,” he says once she’s out and all six of us gather around a lab station.

“She can stay with me,” Celia offers.

Sinclair scoffs. “You’re not taking her to whatever hellhole of an omega house you’re calling home for now.”

She doesn’t take the bait and answers as calmly as she probably can. “I have my own apartment.”

Sinclair raises her brows. “Yeah? Since when?”

“Since I almost died, got clean, and found a job that doesn’t involve taking my clothes off. That’s actually why I was at the apartment that morning. I was coming to tell you and Mom that I had my life back on track.”

“Okay, you know what, let’s do it.” Sinclair crosses her arms. “Let’s talk about how the hell you died but actually didn’t and somehow I got wrapped up in paying off your debt.”

“Er . . . we’ll talk discharge later then,” Doc says awkwardly and scoots out of the conversation. Bishop follows him, which is fine. He’s a good logistics man.

Me? I’m here to support my girl. And keep Titus from throttling her mom. Because the more worked up our omega gets, the more and more he looks like he’s about to.

Celia releases a long, drawn-out exhale and then begins. “I had this longtime client, Don. He really liked me and treated me better than most, so when he offered to buy my contract, I thought I was actually in luck.

“My good luck didn’t even last forty-eight hours, though, because less than a day later, I’m at his place—some cabin way outside of town—he gets carried away and . . .” She shakes her head like it’s tough to continue. “And, well, I don’t remember exactly what happened, but one moment we’re going at it—”

“Ew.” Sinclair grimaces.

“Oh grow up, it’s not like you don’t know what I did.” The way they bicker reminds me more of siblings than child and parent.

“ Anyway ,” she continues, “the next thing I know, I’m waking up with lungs full of water, clothes ripped to hell and caught on some fallen branches in a raging river. The bastard got a little too kinky. I must have been so passed out, he’d thought he’d killed me and, being the stand-up gentleman he is, had dumped my body in a river.” She finishes with a huff and flops down on a stool like she just finished a grand performance and is waiting for our outpouring of sympathy.

Sinclair doesn’t buy into any of it. “Even if I believed whatever high tale, crock-of-shit that was, it doesn’t explain how I ended up paying off your ‘already paid’ contract.”

Celia bounces back to her feet. “It’s the truth! He tried to kill me!”

“According to you, it sounds like he just got a little carried away—”

“Oh, you ungrateful, little—”

“Okay, okay, everybody just calm down.” I jump between them like a referee breaking up a fight.

“ Don’t tell me to calm down ,” they both shout at the same time.

If I wasn’t trying to physically keep them from tearing each other’s eyes out right now, I would laugh at how similar they are. Even down to the death glare they shoot at one another for saying the same thing.

I’m starting to get the feeling that keeping these two from murdering each other is going to be our hardest trial yet.