“You say f**k when you’re pissed nearly as much as Mom does,” he informed me.
Great.
“Though, you don’t throw shit or grab knives,” he muttered then his eyes slid to his Dad. “Bet that’s a relief.”
Tack chuckled.
Chuckled!
“Knives?” I breathed.
“Long story,” Tack replied.
“Or, stories,” Rush clarified.
“Naomi wielded a knife on you?” I asked Tack.
“Knivezzzz, plural,” Rush answered.
“Holy crap,” I whispered.
“Right, quit freakin’ out Tyra,” Tack muttered. “Your sister up?”
“She will be, she smells bacon fryin’ and knows pancakes are comin’,” Rush threw out his thinly veiled request for his father to start cracking on breakfast.
“I’m not sure, honey,” I put in. “She had a rough night.”
“Uh, Tyra, you’ve eaten Dad’s pancakes. Rough night, wild night, hell night, you get up for Dad’s pancakes.”
I suspected this was true.
“Go check on her,” Tack ordered.
“A man takes a load off and right away, he’s ordered to put one back on,” Rush groused as he got to his feet.
“Boy, you just been sleepin’,” Tack returned.
“Whatever,” Rush murmured, humor in his voice as he slid inside.
If Tabby was up, I had little time.
Even if she wasn’t, Rush would be back soon so I still had little time.
So I didn’t delay in throwing it out there.
“Can I talk to her first?”
Tack looked hard at me. “You want to?”
“I think…” I hesitated then answered, “Yes, I want to.”
“You think what?”
I took in breath.
Then I told him, “I think, if I’m going to be around, that I broke her trust last night. And I think, since I am going to be around, I shouldn’t delay in getting it back.”
“How’d you break her trust?”