Page 13 of Volatile Vice

But I won’t succumb to that.

I spent enough time curled up on my bed worrying about my life ending while I was sick.

I need to embrace my life. And that means embracing these fears. Getting through them. As soon as I’m done with breakfast, I’ll call Falcon. I’ll have him and his friend Leif meet me at my house. They’ll make sure my place is safe. And I’ll have them make sure this place—my parents’ house—is also safe.

I down the orange juice, knowing I will be in heartburn city in a moment. But it makes my mother happy.

What I really want is a can of Orange Crush. I’m an adult. I should be able to have what I want. But right now I don’t want my mother to be more upset than she already is. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. It was always my intention to come home. And if I had, I’d have found…

God…

But at least that would have been better. We’d all have alibis.

If only Vinnie hadn’t left in the middle of the night. Then I’d have an ironclad alibi as well.

I scroll absently through my phone, looking for some message from him. No texts, no missed calls. He’s not on social media.

I have no idea whether he’s dead or alive. And with Brick dead? Anything could have happened to Vinnie.

Your move, Cobra.

What the hell does that even mean?

I try to swallow the lump in my throat, but to no avail.

My mother brings my breakfast over to me with a forced smile. “Here you go. Just how you like them.”

I force a smile back at her. “Thanks, Mom.” The eggs are poached instead of scrambled. Poached eggs are gooey, and Mom knows I hate them. She’d never make them for me if she was herself.

I can’t bring myself to draw attention to her mistake. Instead, I push my fork into one of the poached eggs, swirl it into the yolk, and dip a toast point in the yellow liquid. I bring it to my mouth, but the smell…

Normally I love eggs. Especially the fresh eggs we have here on the ranch.

But the smell of it. The taste of it?—

I gulp, trying to dislodge the lump in my throat, and I take a bite, chew, force it down.

The second bite is easier. The third bite is about the same. Mom will worry if I don’t eat, and I do need sustenance to keep my strength and aid in my recovery.

I’m not going to add to the turmoil of this morning.

So I eat all of it. All of the breakfast.

Now what?

Mom is standing over me like a shadow.

“How are things going at your house?” she asks. “Are you getting it livable again?”

Classic Mom again. Trying to ease the tension with conversation. “Yeah. I’ve missed it.”

“I know you have, honey. It won’t be long before you’re back there full-time.”

Right. Not until I have a security system that’s worth a damn. And not until there’s one installed here as well.

I rise. “Thanks for breakfast. I have some work to do. You know, with the foundation I’m putting together and all.”

“Oh, yes. How’s that going?”