OWNED & UNTAMED (Back Down Devil MC #11) - London Casey Page 0,8
make a quick breakfast so Jim could eat something greasy and hopefully feel better.
Jim stumbled into the kitchen a minute later, looking like death. He looked at me, looked at the stove, then looked at me again.
“I fucked up the bacon,” I said. “Sorry.”
He walked to the counter. He opened a cabinet and grabbed a large container of pills. He dumped out three ibuprofen, poured a mug of coffee, and then took out a plate and slapped a few pieces of the bacon on it. He then sat across from me, sipped his coffee, and took a bite of the bacon. It crumbled into black charred pieces on the plate.
When he grabbed the pills, I raised an eyebrow.
“That’s too many,” I said. “You’re going to hurt your stomach.”
Jim didn’t speak. He put all three pills into his mouth and swallowed without even using a drink.
He took another bite of burned bacon and sipped his coffee.
That’s when he finally spoke.
“Bacon is too crispy.”
“You’re an asshole,” I said.
I stood up and walked to the coffeepot and poured more for myself. I spotted the pan in the sink - the one with the fruit flies and dried spaghetti sauce - and grabbed the handle. I tore it out of the sink and spun around.
“Why can’t you even clean this up?” I yelled. “This sits here for days. It’s disgusting, Jim. Of all the things… why not just…”
Jim finished another piece of bacon. He licked black pieces of bacon off his lips and then rubbed some out of the scruff on his face. He then looked at me.
“You know, this still tastes better than some of the shit I had to eat over there.”
Over there was code for Iraq. Jim never said the word. It was always over there.
I dropped the dirty pan and carried my coffee to the table.
“Is that your way of thanking me for the bacon?” I asked.
“Nope,” he said. He drank more coffee.
“You could have hurt yourself last night.”
“I know.”
“How is that fair to me? I get to come home to that. If I was twenty minutes later you could have choked on your own puke.”
“Isn’t that how rockstars die?” he asked with a shit grin. “I could have been famous.”
“Jim…”
“Well, I guess I’ll never be famous. Even when I got hurt over there, I did it the wrong way. Losing a leg is so twenty years ago.”
I just sat there, refusing to speak to his baby nonsense.
We were in silence again for a few minutes.
“That tree is still out back,” I said. “The one that fell in the storm a month ago. I can call someone…”
“Don’t you fucking dare,” Jim snapped.
“It’s just sitting there,” I said. “You don’t have to worry about stuff like that, Jim.”
“I’ll cut it.”
“When? You keep saying it.”
“When I fucking feel like it, sis.”
I swallowed hard. “It looks like shit. And that’s my side of the yard.”
Jim grinned. “We have sides?”
“Yes, we do.”
“Wow, if Mom and Dad could see us now. Fighting over the yard they wanted so badly to fill with kids and grandkids.”
I felt like someone sucked the wind out of my lungs. I lurched forward and my eyes went wide. That comment really hit home. Bad enough I had lost my parents, I felt terrible that their later-in-life dreams never came true.
“What?” Jim asked. “You don’t like the truth? Poor thing.”
“Fuck you, Jim,” I said. I stood up. “I’m not bailing you out anymore then. If you don’t want to cut down the tree, I’ll call someone to do it. If you don’t want to do the dishes in your place, I’ll pay someone to come clean. The loudest person ever. Anything to piss you off.”
“Piss me off?” he asked. He showed his teeth. “You’re doing a great job now, sis.”
“Glad I could do something right,” I said.
“I’ll go get an award,” Jim said.
That’s when I had to get out of the kitchen. There was no use in trying to argue with Jim. He would just get nastier until he got what he wanted - which was for me to cry.
I saved the tears for my own privacy.
I went to my part of the house, up to my bedroom, and I took a shower.
After showering and getting dressed, I looked at myself in the mirror, brushing my hair, my stomach growling. I was freaking starving and coffee for breakfast wasn’t doing the trick.