Page 116 of Five Brothers

Please. Tell me everything.I’d love to know who he’s had.

Amy, obviously. That doesn’t mean he knows us.

“Bitch.” But he says it nice and soft, and I almost smile. It’s good to be back to normal.

But Army slams a piece of silverware down on the counter. “Shut up!” he yells at Dallas. “Just stop!”

“Or what?” Dallas taunts.

But it’s me who answers. “Or I’m going to stay forever.”

“You’re probably pregnant already.”

I scoot into the seat next to Trace, resting my head on his shoulder but still looking at Dallas. “Uncle Dallas. I like the sound of that.”

“Would you even know who the father is?”

I lift the coffee to my lips. “Well, it’s definitely a Jaeger.”

Trace snorts, dropping his head and shaking with laughter.

Food hits my forehead, and I jerk, watching scrambled egg spill from my skin onto the table.

“Ohhhh,” Trace murmurs.

I kind of want to cry, but I sort of want to laugh, too.

“Goddammit. Are you gonna do something?” I hear Army ask, but I can’t see who he’s talking to.

And before I even see him coming, Dallas reaches over and grabs me by the neckline of my dress and hauls me onto the table.

“We’re going to look back on this and laugh,” I squeal. “We’re not sleeping together.”

“Can we shower?” I retort.

Trace’s laughter fills the room, and I feel a whole container of sugar dump on my head. I cry out, kicking on top of the table. “You’re gonna love me! I swear!”

“Fuck off!” Dallas growls.

But I hear a faint voice pierce the commotion, different from the others. “Krisjen …”

I turn away from Dallas’s onslaught, trying to open my eyes. Dishes tumble to the floor.

“Krisjen?”

I blink, everything going still as everyone stops.

Macon sits at the head of the table as Army leans halfway over it, one hand on my arm, the other fisting Dallas’s hair.

Macon stares at the table, the look in his eyes settling like a hole in my stomach.

I release my grip on Dallas’s chest.

“Make me another one?” Macon asks me. He holds the mug with the smoothie, tipping it back and emptying it down his throat as he rises from the table. “And dinner tonight,” he says. “Something different than what’s on that fucking menu. Please.”

He leaves the table and heads for the garage.

“I can get you something from town,” Army calls out to him.