Rules of Protection(74)

“Didn’t he tell you I caused the fight?”

“Jake told us he protected you from that little bastard, Jeremy.”

“That’s partially true,” I said, looking back at Jake. “But there’s more to it.”

Jake touched my arm. “Emily, you don’t have to—”

“No, it’s okay.” It was time I took responsibility for my own actions. I turned back toward Hank and let out a small sigh. “I flirted with Jeremy to make Jake jealous. It’s why the fight broke out to begin with. It shouldn’t have happened, and I feel terrible it went so far.”

“Of course you do, dear,” Floss said, bringing me a plate of food. “Now eat up. Don’t let those pancakes get cold.”

Hank returned to reading his paper.

“That’s it? That’s all you’re going to say?”

“Well, for heaven’s sake, what more is there?” Floss asked.

Hank peered around his newspaper at me. “Everyone makes mistakes, honey. But if it will make you feel better, I could take you out back, throw you over the fence, and let the buzzards eat you. I don’t know what good it’ll do, though.” Hank laughed at himself. “Now finish your breakfast.”

Floss broke in again. “By the way, Hank, I found my cell phone. I guess I’d left it in the truck yesterday when I went into town.”

“Good,” he murmured, his nose buried in his newspaper. “I didn’t want to have to buy another one.”

Instantly, I remembered the phone call I’d placed to Gina. It was dreamlike. I couldn’t believe I did something so dumb. Then again, we were talking about me. My biggest fear was that I’d put Gina and Dale in danger with my phone call, all because I wanted to hear her voice. I couldn’t berate myself enough.

“You look hung over,” Jake said. “You need caffeine.”

Still thinking about the phone call I’d made, I snapped at him. “Why? So I can do stupid things faster?” I caught myself, realizing Jake didn’t know what I’d done. He couldn’t read my mind. “I’m sorry. I…I had a rough night.”

Jesus. I’m going to have to tell him the truth. Damn, he’s going to think what I already know. I’m a freaking moron.

“Jake, I need to talk to you about—”

“Anybody home?” Cowboy yelled from the front room.

“In the kitchen,” Floss yelled back.

When he walked in, I gaped in horror and covered my mouth. Swollen to twice its normal size, Cowboy’s slightly crooked nose had a gash over it. The bruising around it looked painful.

“Oh God. I’m sorry about your nose.”

He shrugged it off and winked. “Ah, I was too pretty, anyway.”

“Is it broken?”

“Usually what happens when you get hit in the face with a beer bottle. It still works, though. That’s all that matters.” He leaned over Floss’s shoulder. “That smells great.”

“Sit on down, and I’ll fix you up a plate,” Floss said, slapping his hand as he reached for a piece of sausage. “And keep your filthy hands out of the food. Ain’t no telling where those things have been. I’ve heard all the rumors.”

“All lies,” Cowboy said with a smug grin. Jake and I scooted around the table to make room for him. As he sat in the chair next to me, Cowboy snickered. “You guys should see Ox and Judd.”

“How’d they fare?” Jake asked.

“Judd has two black eyes and a busted lip, but, as usual, Ox doesn’t have a mark on him. He’s a scrappy little thing, too quick for anyone to get ahold of. I told him the next time we all get into a fight, I’m going to hold him down and let someone beat the hell out of him. That way he’ll match the rest of us.”

“Well, at least one person escaped unharmed,” I told them. They both looked at me like I was stupid. “Okay, I meant someone besides me.”

…

After breakfast, the boys tended to something in the barn for Hank. I helped Floss feed the animals. The horses were fed first, since they impatiently trotted up and down the fence line, snorting and stamping their feet on the soggy ground. It was the equivalent of beating utensils on a table and chanting, “We want food.”

The rabbits were almost as demanding. Jack climbed the wire with his front paws while Twitcher ran in circles, growling, as I neared their cage with pellets. At least the birds would wait until I placed the newly replenished feeder down and walked away before they attacked it.

When Floss added a scoop of kibble to Dog’s bowl, then poured greasy leftovers and raw fat on top, I cringed with disgust. Since he was not around, I imagined the only things that’d be eating out of that bowl were ants. At least I finally figured out how Dog died. A diet like that would kill anybody.

Once we were done, I watched Floss fill a small wire cage with a dozen baby guineas a man ordered earlier in the morning. It was almost noon before he arrived to pick them up. While Floss handled the transaction, I strolled over to the pigeon pen. I watched them strut back and forth, flapping their delicate wings as they cooed to me. It’s where Floss found me.

“You like homing pigeons?” she asked.

“I like listening to them. It’s soothing. Makes me want to fall asleep.”