“How'd she get the black eye?" Mace, the thirty-one-year-old yenta, looked around the kitchen island at Sebastian, Garrett, and I, like one of us had done it.
“Her sperm donor did it."
“Is he dead?"
“Not yet."
I guess that wasn't good enough because he slammed the cleaver down on the cutting board. I ignored him; of course, I'm used to his theatrics, but the other two likes to egg him on. He had a lot to say about me going soft among some other colorful things, and I was in no mood for his s**t.
“I need to get something out of him, okay."
“From the looks of it, he's been thumping on her and her mama for a while." Now he's an expert on domestic abuse. I'm not sure how he came by that conclusion true though it was, because there were no obvious bruises on the mother.
“Looks like. This
