American Demon - Kim Harrison Page 0,113

staff to prove to me he could be a normal guy and that he knew how to wash his own socks, but I think he’s finding an unexpected pleasure in making things for others to enjoy.” I hesitated, spoon clinking as I stirred. “And if you ruin that, I’m going to be pissed.”

“Me?” Zack’s eyes went wide.

“Yes, you.” I couldn’t smell waffles anymore and I listened to the quiet upstairs. “You didn’t see Trent’s face when you ate your mac and cheese last night, but you made his day. He connected with you. To his own past. That means a lot to him. More than it should, but maybe that’s one of the things I love about him.”

Zack’s brow furrowed. “It was just a bowl of pasta.”

“It was until you scarfed it down and made him feel good. So think about what you want in the long term before you screw this up. You want lip service kudos from a man who sees you as a potential threat? Or the guidance of someone who wants to nurture and fledge you? You’re too smart to not see that Trent’s giving you the chance to choose between what everyone expects you to be and the chance to find out what you want to be, and I think you’ve felt the trap Landon has built around you enough to see what a gift that is.” I leaned in over the table, squinting to hammer my next words home. “If you hurt him as you figure things out, I will hurt you.”

Trent’s soft steps scuffed at the high landing, and I smiled as Buddy’s tail thumped and Trent made his slow way down with a tray. “He is all I have,” I said, my thoughts going to waking up in the kitchen with a long-dead anger filling me. “And I will do anything to keep him alive. You understand?”

“I didn’t come here to kill him.” Zack’s voice was soft but there was anger in his eyes.

“No, but maybe that’s why Landon let you escape.”

“He didn’t let me escape,” Zack said.

I shook my napkin out and draped it across my lap. “No? You’ve been on the run for how long? Ditching your phone only buys you a day.” The sound of pixy wings was a bare warning, and I leaned back. “Hi, Jenks.”

“Morning, Rache.” Jenks circled the table once, smirking at my weary confidence and Zack’s brooding mood. “Daybreak really isn’t your time. You look like cold troll shit in December.”

“Thanks,” I said sourly, but I smiled as Trent wove his way through the couches and chairs. He looked rested in a fresh outfit of dress pants and a crisp shirt that showed off his eyes. There was no tie yet, and the top two buttons were still undone to peg my meter. “Wow,” I said as he set down the tray of cereal and fruit. “I’ll never understand how you look that awake.”

“Practice.” Trent flushed as Zack eyed the cereal, the scent of waffles still clinging to him. “Ah, this okay?” Trent said, and Zack bobbed his head and reached for a bowl.

“Hey, Zack. Be a pal and pour some of that syrup onto a plate for me, will you? Rachel hates it when I get my dust in the syrup.”

“Sure.” Zack hesitantly poured out a dollop of syrup. “I thought we were having waffles.”

Trent grimaced at the dry sound of cereal clattering into his bowl. “Me too.”

I hid my smile, glad I hadn’t gone up at the crashing and swearing.

“That’s okay. This is good.” Zack set down the syrup, fascinated when Jenks took a pair of chopsticks from his back pocket and began ladling sticky syrup into himself, head tilted back.

“Trent, you mind if I take some of this back to Izzy and Jumoke?” Jenks asked, surprising me. He never let me buy him anything.

“Not at all. Forage all you want.”

“Thanks.” Wings a blur, Jenks rolled his chopsticks in the sticky syrup, dusting an odd shimmer over them to cake it up and make what looked like cotton candy on a stick.

Silent, I filled my bowl and poured the milk. Watching Trent trying not to watch Zack worried me. I knew that he was seeing himself in the kid and that Trent hadn’t had much of a relationship with his own dad. Combined, it made for a dangerous situation.

My mood darkened as Trent chatted lightly with Jenks and Zack, engaging them both. This was something Trent wanted that I couldn’t give him. What

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