Page 120 of Powerhouse: Boxed Set
“Brando,” I admonished, but the scold held no weight because I was laughing at the look of shocked annoyance that flickered across Tiernan’s face. “You should absolutelynotlie like that.”
“Well,” he reasoned, “I really wanted pancakes.”
Behind me, laughter erupted.
I looked over my shoulder, giggling too, to see Walcott and Patsy in the doorway, struggling to contain their mirth.
Tiernan scowled at them, which only made me laugh harder. I pressed a hand to my aching abs as I struggled to catch my breath. “Oh my gosh, that is too good.”
“I have no doubt who taught him how to use his charm like that,” Tiernan growled at me as he pressed the dirty pancake flipper into my chest, forcing me to grab it.
Melted remnants of the chocolate chips in the batter smeared across my new white sports bra. I choked on my laughter when Tiernan dipped his thumb in the mess and brought it to his mouth, sucking it off with his gaze hooked through my own.
Suddenly, I couldn’t remember what had been funny in the first place.
“See, Tiernan likes pancakes too,” Brando pointed out.
Dark delight moved through those peridot eyes as Tiernan sucked hard on his thumb, lips too pink and full. Unbidden, I imagined what they might look like suctioned around my nipple. If he would suck too hard, bite too harshly. If he’d leave pleasure like a wound.
“I’ll take over, Mr. M—”
“Yes,” he interrupted Patsy. “Please do.”
“You don’t want to make them with me?” Brando asked, his voice a sweet, high psalm.
Tiernan hesitated for just a beat, a tightening of his jaw, before he shook his head. “No, Brandon, I have work to do.”
We both watched as my little brother’s lower lip quivered before he bit down to hold it still. His eyes dropped into the bowl of remaining batter as he whispered, “Okay.”
My heart ached for him.
He’d lost his mother and his father and having me just wasn’t enough. He was a social, loving kid. He yearned for connection, especially in the wake of Aida’s death when we both felt cast adrift, isolated because of the simple fact that we had no one left to love us.
“I can help you, Brandy Boy,” I promised him, stepping in front of Tiernan deliberately before I walked over to my brother and bopped him on the nose. “I’ll even put in extra chocolate chips.”
Brando nodded, his curls veiling his face as he continued to stir the batter despondently. Behind me, the only signal that Tiernan had left was the brisk clip of his dress shoes over the slate floors. I wrapped my arms about around Brando, two fingers sliding gently against the pulse in his neck so I could count the beats. It helped dissipate the anger I felt at Tiernan for disappointing a little kid because he was too much of an asshole to take fifteen minutes for pancakes.
“I love you,” I said into his hair before pressing a kiss there.
I took the bowl from him gently and turned to make more pancakes. Silently, Walcott and Patsy came over to help me and set up plates for serving.
So no one was watching Brando.
“They don’t smell so good,” he murmured somewhat dazedly from behind me.
I was so mired in anger at Tiernan that I didn’t really hear him, cursing out our guardian instead.
If I’d been paying attention, I would have known.
Smelling something strange or bad was one of Brando’s warning symptoms.
A moment later there was an awful crash and sickeningthud.
I spun around with my heart in my throat because I already knew what I would find.
Brandon had fallen off the island to the slate floors, his little body jerking wildly, his head already bleeding from the knock against the ground. Shards of crockery lay around his prone form like shrapnel, a piece cutting into his cheek each time he seized.
I was on my knees beside him in a nanosecond, the timer on my watch counting each second that he convulsed. Gently, I moved him onto his side, catching myself on a piece of porcelain as I brushed it out of the way.
