Cody tried to grab the tray out of Grant’s clenched fists. “Nobody’s disrespecting Madelyn, asshole. This is about you. Not her.”
Grant refused to let go, pulling the tray back toward his chest. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”
A tug of war ensued, cutlery rattling and orange juice sloshing. “You’re pissed because we’re not dancing around you, throwing rose petals like you’re the man of the hour for the stupid move you pulled. You almost died. And if Madelyn hadn’t radioed your coordinates to Tom Two as fast as she did, you wouldn’t fucking be here.”
“So what?” He released his grip, and the glass tipped, sending its contents down the front of Cody’s shirt. “That’s the job. It’s what I’ve been trained to do as a tier one operator, and I have no fucking remorse about doing it. You want an apology? You can go f?—”
“That’s enough.” Adam’s voice cut through Grant with the bite of command, and swallowing his anger, he spun around to discover a handful of spectators gathered around the kitchen, including Chase and Gray, sitting all cozy at the table.
“I’ll see you later, baby.” Getting to his feet, Chase bent over, planted a kiss on the top of his wife’s head, and then stole a piece of her toast. “I’ve got work to do.”
He left the room without so much as a word, never mind a glance in Grant’s direction, and he felt the snub like a physical punch to his churning guts. Motherfucking asshole. Dickhead. Son-of-a?—
“Sit down,” Adam ordered, eyeballing Grant while taking the tray from Cody.
“I need a shower,” he grumbled like a teenager trying to save face after having a tantrum.
“Is your skull caved in so bad you’re blanking on what orders sound like?” Zander kicked a chair leg under the table, shoving it out with his foot. “Sit down, motherfucker.”
Not done being petty, Grant took the chair vacated by Chase instead.
“Eat.” Gray slid her plate of food over.
“I’m not hungry.”
“Don’t make me hurt you, dickhead.” She stabbed her fork into the half-eaten breakfast casserole, standing it at attention.
“Here.” Knowing he liked ketchup on his eggs, Summer smiled at him and slid the bottle his way before she picked up her phone and checked the screen. “Halia’s awake,” she said, getting to her feet. “I’ll see you later.”
Grant nodded and faked a smile back.
“Bacon,” Davis said, appearing with a platter of crispy strips and adding a half pound to Gray’s already heaping plate.
“Coffee.” Switching places with Davis, Cody set a mug of steaming hot coffee down on the table, and Grant’s good eye blurred for reasons he didn’t want to think about.
“Thanks.” Voice thick with regret, he cleared his throat as he reached for the ketchup.
“You got it.” Cody clamped his hand down on Grant’s shoulder, offering a brotherly squeeze before he vacated the scene.
“Mandatory briefing in an hour.”
“Yep,” Grant replied to Adam before he disappeared inside his office, shutting the door behind him.
Resigned to eating, because he couldn’t say no to Gray, he flipped the lid on the squeeze bottle and gave it a hard upside-down shake to coax out the goods.
“That’s disgusting.” A hater of condiments in general, Gray scrunched her nose at Grant’s smothered food while swiping one of the few slices of tomato-free bacon.
“Don’t knock it until you try it, sunshine.”
She shuddered, and the face she made would’ve been comical if he’d been in the mood to be amused. “I’d rather coat my taste buds in Aqua Velva and set them on fire than eat that shit.”
“That sounds a tad dramatic,” Zander said, finishing his coffee and gathering his dirty dishes. He stood and brought his load to the sink.
“Best five of seven?” Gray asked, looking over her shoulder.
“Nope, you already lost, fair and square,” he replied, referring to their long-standing rock, paper, scissors battle to determine dish duty for the day.
“Bullshit,” she huffed. “You cheated.”
