Page 238 of Wrecking Love

ROAN: Thang.

I fucking snorted into my coffee as I re-read his dumbass ranting. Served him right with all his dumb nicknames.

ROAN: Fuck, I’m tired.

ROAN: The things I do for you.

I didn’t fucking ask you to do anything, you dramatic fuck.

ROAN: You woke me.

To see if you wanted me to bring you breakfast, you furry shit!

ROAN: Hand-delivered breakfast from Killian Byrne? Sure, why the fuck not.

God, he was fucking irritating. Loved him like a brother and would contemplate beating him like one.

Again… what the fuck do you want?

ROAN: Make me a sandwich. All the fixings.

ROAN: Hashbrowns too.

ROAN: An omelet would be nice.

ROAN: None of that stupid protein shake shit you make.

There was no fucking way I was getting him all that shit. Who ate that much fucking food for breakfast?

Black coffee and an everything bagel with cream cheese for your dumbass, got it.

ROAN: You wound me.

I think what you mean is: thank you, Killian, you magnificent beast for going out of your way to take care of me.

ROAN: Nope. Don’t mean that.

I chuckled as I meandered to the next aisle. Fucking with Roan was one of my favorite pastimes.

Killian, you gorgeous fucking man, I aspire to your level of greatness.

ROAN: Yeah, definitely don’t mean that.

Killian fucking Byrne, you’re the best fucking thing to ever happen to me. I don’t know what I’d ever do without you. You’ve changed me forever.

ROAN: God, the fucking ego on you.

I live to inspire.

ROAN: Inspire pain and misery.

Always.

Put your dick away. I’ll bring you a fucking bagel.

ROAN: The price is too high.

You’ve got fifteen minutes.