Page 26 of Masked Sins
Holy fuck. Layla messaged me?—
Except she doesn’t know it’sme, does she?
Leaning my head back against the cabinet, I quickly shoot a text to my brother Kai.
You up?
Malakai
Is this a booty call?
I haven’t eaten yet, and I was going to grab some tacos from the truck down the street.
All my brothers know that if I ask to hang out—especially at random times—it’s likely because I’m bored. I never really feel the urge to drink myself into oblivion anymore, but I think they’re always worried I’ll fall down that rabbit hole again if left to my own devices.
Curse of being the youngest sibling who used to have a drinking problem, I suppose.
I almost always reach out to Kai first because he lives half a mile away in a condo just outside of St. Helena Academy, where he works as the headmaster. He moved to downtown Crestwood a few years ago when he took the job.
Malakai
20 min?
Sure. I’ll grab us the usual.
I stand and walk over to the dining room, where Earl perches on the mantel, cocking his head at his reflection in the large mirror above the fireplace. On top of being a smart-ass, he’s alsoincredibly vain. He spends hours studying his reflection, and I make a mental note to look into getting him a bird friend that he won’t brutally kill. I looked after Captain Sushi, Zoe and Liam’s serval cat, while they were on their honeymoon. During those two weeks, Captain spent most of his time hiding in my closet because Earl had scared him so much. Given Captain’s size, you’d think it would’ve been the other way around, but I’ve seen Earl scare off humans before, so I wasn’t surprised.
Fucking birds.
“I’m going out for an hour. Are you going to be good, or do you need to return to your cage?”
“Earl is a good boy, Master,” he crows.
I huff a laugh. “Okay. See you soon.”
Walking to the elevator, I push the button to head to the lobby. The taco truck is only a few blocks away, so I walk instead of taking my bike. I wave to the security guard as I exit the building. Pulling my leather jacket tighter, I check my phone for a response from Layla about fifty times before I walk up to the white food truck.
I shake hands with the cook and order for Kai and me, paying with cash and leaving a hefty tip. Grabbing a table under a string of bistro lights, I refresh my message requests at least a dozen more times before Kai claps me on the back.
“Hey,” he says, taking the seat opposite of me.
He’s in a dark gray T-shirt, a black jacket, and jeans, and despite knowing he’s not as religious as everyone thinks—not anymore at least—it still startles me to see him dressed so casually.
The chef calls our number, so I jump up to grab our tacos and sodas. When I sit back down, I push his basket closer, but I can feel his eyes boring into me.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, squeezing lime over the carnitas, cilantro, and chopped onions.
“Nothing,” I lie, doing the same to my tacos and taking a massive bite so I don’t have to answer.
Kai smirks as he takes a swig of his soda. “Mmm. Okay. I think you forget that your face is very expressive.”
“I’m just hungry,” I grumble, shoving more food into my mouth.
My brother shrugs and eats his tacos, and while we eat, I think he’ll drop it. Except his discerning nature always wins in the end, and after wiping his mouth and hands, he leans back and looks me straight in the eye.
“Is sobriety bothering you?”
His question catches me so off guard that I can’t help but laugh. “No. Aside from the random cravings for whiskey, I haven’t missed alcohol at all.”
