LIAM:
Lol. That mouth of yours.
LIAM:
My point is he can’t contact you until he gets his replacement.
LIAM:
Bureau is having a Halloween party this Saturday. Date?
MILA:
With you or him?
LIAM:
As much as I would love for it to be with me, you’ll have to settle for the latter.
MILA:
I wouldn’t have it any other way.
LIAM:
You wound me, woman.
LIAM:
A dance is mine, though. You know, to thank me for saving your life last night.
MILA:
Fuck off.
LIAM:
With you? Name the time and place. I’ll be waiting naked.
LIAM:
Bet you’re picturing it, aren’t you? You’re oh so welcome.
MILA:
Vile.
Powering down the phone, I snort at his persistence. A child is trying to take down my family. Stopping Brenner should be a cakewalk, given his mentality of a fifteen-year-old boy, and it’s evident his dick runs the show.
Feeling sleep-deprived and slightly defeated, I make my way to the bathroom to shower before speaking with my dad about last night. It’s best to handle this situation on my own rather than rely on my brother’s rundown of Breckin’s play-by-play. Since neither one of them was there, they can’t give the actual details of the night’s events.
I text my dad to see where he s. By the time I’m showered and dressed, he’s answered with a short “office.” I note it’s only eight a.m., and considering I’d finally fallen asleep around four, I’m already itching to catapult myself back into bed and give life the middle finger.
The usual eerie quiet rings in my ears when I reach the quarters that house Dad’s office. Memories of the conversation I overheard the other night have anger bubbling under my skin, but this isn’t the time to let it get the better of me. I need to clear my name after whatever story Dumb and Dumber twisted for their benefit. Though I’m confident Donovan’s head is on mostly straight, one can never be too sure about Breckin.
Taking a deep breath, I rap twice on the office door before entering. Lo and behold, these two dipshits are already here with my father. I refuse to speak to my dad in front of them; I’m always down for a good argument, but I can’t be bothered with their nonsense this morning.
I take in the three men in front of me, trying to get a reading on the mood I just barged in on. The worry on Donovan’s face catches me off guard. Guilt pangs in my chest at my brother’s swollen face; he might be a shithead sometimes, but he’s still my little brother. He didn’t deserve that from me.