Brothersong (Green Creek #4) - T.J. Klune Page 0,110
at Gavin, then glanced at me. “All right?” He jerked his head toward the guys sitting at the counter, who were not hiding the fact that they kept sneaking glances our way.
I nodded. “They’re harmless.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Gordo said. He raised his voice. “Though people should probably mind their own business and let others eat in peace.”
The men at the counter turned away quickly.
Dominique came to the table. “The usual, boys?”
Gordo nodded. “Coffee too. A lot of it.”
“Can do.”
Gavin leaned over to me, dropping his voice to a low whisper. “Usual? Is that bacon?”
“Yes.”
He looked relieved as he turned back to Dominique. “Usual. Please.”
Dominique smiled at him. “So polite. I like that. Maybe teach the others some manners.” She rapped her knuckles against the table before turning around and heading back toward the kitchen, already shouting back at the cook in diner speak.
Gavin was fidgeting. He wouldn’t look up at me or at the others across from us. He was obviously uncomfortable, but he wasn’t trying to leave or take off his clothes to shift back. Small favors, and all that.
“So,” I said.
“So,” Gordo said.
“So,” Robbie said.
And that was it.
It was a little awkward.
Gordo knew it too. He cleared his throat, looking at his brother, then at me. “I heard from Aileen.”
Gavin stiffened.
“What did she say?” I asked. “Anything we need to be worried about?”
Gordo shook his head. “No. He’s… they haven’t seen him.” Gavin raised his head in alarm, but Gordo held up his hand. “He’s still there. He can’t get out. The wards are holding. They’re making sure of it.”
“It’s not going to last forever,” I said. “We need to figure out what we’re going to do. He got out once. He can do it again.”
“He had Michelle Hughes last time,” Gordo said, leaning back against the booth. “Though fuck if I know how that happened. It bugs the shit out of me that we didn’t see that coming. Or even consider it.”
“She lied,” Robbie said, voice flat. “It’s what she did. She lied about everything. She was good at it.”
Gordo stretched his arm over the back of the booth, fingers against Robbie’s shoulder. “Not your fault, kid. You couldn’t have known. They made sure of it.”
Robbie grimaced. “I know that. But she had everyone fooled. She got what was coming to her.”
“She can’t hurt anyone again.”
“He can,” Gavin muttered.
Gordo looked hesitant. I nodded at him. There was a reason we were here, and it wasn’t just to have lunch. He said, “Hey, Gavin.”
Gavin flinched, clutching my hand in his lap. “What.”
“You doing okay?”
“Yes. Doing okay.” He didn’t sound like it.
“Is there anything you need? Anything we can do for you?”
“No.”
“That’s good. If you do need something, all you need to do is—”
“Ask. I know.” He brushed his hair back off his face as he lifted his head. “You have questions.”
Gordo startled. “That obvious, huh?”
“You’re very obvious. Always have been.”
Robbie coughed into his hand and then glared at Gordo when he smacked him upside the head. “I’m not obvious.”
Gavin rolled his eyes, and it was such a Gordo thing to do, I had to bite back the laughter that threatened to burst out of me. “Sure. Okay.”
Of course the universe would see fit to put me with this asshole. I didn’t know if I was being rewarded or punished.
Robbie stared out the window, a smile on his face. He looked relaxed, more at peace than I remembered him being before I left. It stung a little to know I’d missed him coming back to himself and how he used to be.
“Ask,” Gavin said. “Questions. Always questions with you. All of you. It’s annoying.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Gordo said dryly. Then, “Just gonna come out with it, okay? Do you hear him? Is he still in your head?”
Gavin shrugged. “Not loud. Not like it was. Close to him. Heard him all the time. It’s… quieter now.”
“Because you’re so far away from him?” Robbie asked.
“Maybe. I don’t know. Territory.” He relaxed his grip on my hand. “Territory helps. Being here. Makes it quieter. Pack helps too.”
That caught our attention. “Can you feel the pack?” Gordo asked.
“Little bit. It’s quiet. Like Dad.” He scowled. “Like Livingstone.”
“You can call him that if you want,” Gordo said.
“You don’t.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve dealt with his shit for a little while longer than you have. Let’s just say I won’t be celebrating Father’s Day any time soon.”
“Livingstone,” Gavin said again, almost stubbornly. “I call him Livingstone. Not Dad. I had….”