Page 16 of Carrick
“Scientifically valid,” Jax replied without missing a beat. “Though, to be fair, breast momentum biomechanics during high-impact activities involve different vector forces. We’re talking pancake flipping trajectories here, not pendulous oscillation.”
“Tragic,” she deadpanned. “Those are my favorite types of trajectories.”
“You wouldn’t say that if you’d ever charted the kinetic force curve of a D-cup at a full jog.”
“Jesus Christ, Jax,” Sully muttered, chortling.
“What? It’s basic physics. Gravitational tension, soft-tissue elasticity, variable lift. There are studies.”
Maddy pointed her fork at him. “You bring titty graphs to my next workout and I swear to God?—”
Carrick lounged against the far counter, coffee mug in hand, the corner of his mouth twitching like he was trying not to laugh. His hair was still damp from his own shower, and his shirt clung to him in places that made my brain short-circuita little. I could see the way he was favoring his right side, and remembered someone mentioning that he had just come back from some sort of mission that didn’t end well.
He didn’t look at me, not really. Just flicked his gaze in my direction for a half-second too long, like he was checking to see if I’d stayed on my feet since the garage.
I had. Barely.
“I vote for cinnamon syrup,” Sully said, flipping a pancake with a dramatic wrist flourish. “Strong flavor profile, complex finish, subtle heat.”
“You sound like you’re reviewing wine,” Deacon muttered from his spot at the end of the table. He didn’t say much from what I’d seen so far, but when he did, his voice carried like thunder on low volume—deep and hard to ignore.
“Everything’s an experience,” Sully replied. “Why half-ass a single bite?”
Niko leaned in from the far corner of the room, where he’d apparently just finished toweling off from a shower himself.
How big is their water heater?
Damp hair, clean T-shirt, and jeans that clung like they knew the assignment—he moved toward Maddy and took her hand. Just for a moment, but enough to confirm what her comment yesterday had already implied: they were very much a thing.
Interesting.
“Is this the official hazing ritual for our new guest?” he asked, raising a brow at me. “Syrup supremacy and theoretical breakfast mechanics?”
I arched a brow back. “I’ve survived worse.”
“I believe it,” he murmured, and I caught the flicker of curiosity in his eyes—sharp and observant, but not unkind.
“Food’s ready,” Sully announced, stacking a towering plate of pancakes and moving to the table like a man on a mission. “First come, first fed.”
I slid into a seat between Maddy and Jax, trying not to feel like a kid on her first day at a new school. Breakfast this morning had been a quick, informal affair, but this felt way more… intentional. And intimidating. Jax immediately passed me a plate, then offered a fork like a peace treaty.
“Thank you,” I said, a little surprised by the courtesy.
He shrugged. “It’s science. Hungry people are grumpy. Feed the witness, minimize the damage.”
“Oh, we’re calling her the witness now?” Maddy teased, elbowing me gently. “Please tell me you’ve seenThe Bachelor, and know how much fun we can have with that.”
“Not a fan of reality TV,” I replied. “Too much secondhand embarrassment.”
Carrick smirked into his coffee like he was filing that away.
As everyone settled in, the kitchen filled with overlapping voices and easy jabs. Sully launched into a story about Niko flooding the basement while “fixing” the water heater—Deacon raised a brow, not denying it. Jax and Maddy spiraled into a mini-debate over pancake-to-syrup ratios—absorbency curves and viscosity levels, mostly—while Carrick offered the occasional grunt that suggested he was listening, even if he didn’t care.
“I’m just saying,” Jax argued, waving a fork like a pointer, “you can’t exceed a one-to-one syrup-to-surface ratio without risking structural collapse. It’s not opinion. It’s simple physics.”
Maddy tossed a grape at his head. “You’re eating breakfast for dinner, not designing a suspension bridge.”
“Same concept,” he muttered, catching the grape without even looking and popping it into his mouth. “Engineering is universal.”
