as he hands me the black mug. I'm not keen on drinking out of mugs this dark. It's impossible to see if they’re actually clean, but I don't want to be rude. "Yeah. The bed was so comfortable."
He smiles broadly. "My bed is the best in the house."
"Yeah, without you in it," Hunter mutters.
"That's not what your girlfriend says," Harley bites back.
"That's because I don't have one." Hunter shakes his head.
Harley flops down next to his brother. "Well, she would if you did."
"Ignore them." Reggie waves the spatula at his brothers. "They're twins. They don't know how to live with each other or without each other.”
I rest the cup on the counter, dropping the tea bag in the bottom and reaching for the hot kettle. The smell of the brewing tea makes my nose fizz.
"What is that?" Reggie asks, peering at the yellowy liquid with interest.
"Ginger tea. It's good for sickness," I say, shrugging my shoulders. "I have no idea if this works."
"You feeling bad?" he asks, his expression softening with sympathy.
"Just in the morning, really, or if I'm tired."
"Well, you just let us know if we can do anything to make it better."
I smile quickly. "Thanks."
It feels awkward to take a seat at the huge wooden table that I calculate can seat fourteen comfortably. I place my mug in front of me and watch in fascination as the black coating of the cup starts to change color.
"You didn't give Maggie Dwayne's mug, did you?" John asks Harley.
"Shit, I forgot." Harley looks at me apologetically as the heat change reveals a very rude word and an explicit picture. I snort with laughter as John makes a move to get another mug. "It's okay. I'll keep this one. Save on dishes."
"Dwayne has a wicked sense of humor. Watch out for him."
I sip from the mug, trying to avoid looking at the image, but the men at the table can’t seem to stop watching me with fascination. Maybe they're as unused to having women around the house as I am with men. I don't want them to think that I'm a shy wallflower who's easily offended.
"What are they?" John asks, nodding at my little pouch of cookies.
"Ginger cookies," I say.
"You eat cookies for breakfast?" Hunter screws up his face.
"I eat anything I can hold down," I say.
"So, what's your plan for today?" John takes a swig from his inoffensive mug. "I'm free to help with Dad's room if that's what you want to do."
"Sure," I say. "It'll be good to get started." I remember the impact of walking in that door yesterday and have to swallow the burn in my throat. I keep my eyes fixed on the cookies, not wanting anyone to see how upset I am.
"Most of the guys are working today," Harley says. "That's why the house is quiet. They all left early."
"Really? What do they do?"
"Logan teaches martial arts to kids. Gordon is part-time manager of a gym in town. Dwayne, Daryl, and Donovan work in the sportswear store just outside of town, and Sean and Trey are part-time landscapers."
"Wow… that's a lot of different jobs. What about you guys?"
"Me and Hunter do math tuition. Reggie does murals and paintings, and John works at a youth club."
"That's so cool."
"What do you do, Maggie?"
"I… well, my mom wants me to study, so she told me not to get a part-time job. I did work in the local mall for a while, but there was trouble."
"Your mom sounds protective." Hunter raises his eyebrow, and I don't miss the underside to his comment. She might be protective, but I’m still a pregnant teen.
"She is," I say. "In a good way." I don't tell them about all the rows we've had over the years or about the number of times I called my mom a hypocrite for being a party girl in her youth and trying to stop me from living my life. I guess if I’d listened to her more, things would be different.
Reggie arrives at the table with a steaming plate of food, and my four foster brothers spear meat with their forks and butter hot toast.
The conversation turns to their latest football game, and as much as I try to listen, it's all just too technical. What I do learn is that Gordon had a bad run-in with a rival player and has been temporarily suspended. None of his brothers are happy, but none of them are prepared to say a thing to him about it.