Page 7 of Broken Lies
Brennan picks up the empty pot and waves it around. “You’re out of coffee.”
He opens it again and looks inside as if it might have suddenly magically refilled itself.
I narrow my eyes at Ronan. “You could have at least left him behind.”
“He’s like a sad puppy. He just gives me those eyes, and I can’t say no.”
I clap Ronan on the shoulder. “You’ve gone soft, brother. You’re going to have to work on that before those kids of yours arrive; otherwise you’ll be royally fucked. But at least you’ve gotten some solid practice in with this one over here.”
I snatch the coffee pot out of Brennan’s hand before he can break it and get to work fixing us a fresh pot.
From the serious look on Ronan’s face, I have a feeling we’re going to need it.
As he works, and I finish making my breakfast, I only half listen to their conversation. Most of the time, Ronan only talks about Ciara, which is both cute and nauseating.
I’m glad he’s happy, but I also wish he didn’t have to rub his happiness in my goddamn face all the time.
Brennan smirks. “I still can’t believe you’re going to have two kids. I would have put money on Kieran knocking someone up first.”
I plate up my food. “Ronan’s always got to be the first at everything.”
The fucker puffs up his chest. “Damn right!”
Brennan shakes his head. “Is Cormac on his way?”
“Cormac’scoming?” The words come out harsher than I intended, but I don’t care.
I’ve stopped trying to hide my distaste when it comes to Cormac.
“He is our brother, too, Kieran.”
“Like I give a fuck. What I don’t understand is how you twodon’thave a problem with him. He disappeared for years, and then suddenly shows up the second our father is in the ground? A little too convenient if you ask me.”
Brennan shrugs. “Yeah, but I mean, it’s not like he’s going to take over as head of the family.”
“He could have if everyone else was out of the way.” I shoot Ronan a look, but he blatantly ignores me.
“So could you. And all it would take would be for Ronan to fall. Hm, this shit is good.” Brennan scarfs down another mouthful.
“Quit stealing my breakfast.” I snatch my plate away.
Ronan scoffs. “If you’re done playing chef, we need to get to work.”
“Shouldn’t we wait for His Highness to grace us with his presence?”
Ronan shakes his head. “No need. He’s just pulling into the garage now.”
“Remind me to change the code,” I say under my breath, and Brennan chuckles.
The coffeein my mug is cold, but I keep sipping it anyway.
I lounge back in my armchair, surveying Ronan as he stands with his arms crossed and his eyes fixed on the whiteboard behind my couch.
It's full of names and places and lines that connect what feels like everything and nothing at the same time.
"It still doesn’t make sense," Brennan mutters from where he perches on the arm of the other armchair. "Finn won’t talk to any of us. Not even after what Cormac did to his hand."
Ronan looks at Cormac. “What the hell did you do to his hand?”
