Something to Prove

VII

"You've got what it takes, but it will take everything you've got."

"Zack, pick up the pace! I'm beating you by a mile!" I yell behind me, seeing Zack struggling to keep up with Jax, Dean, and I. We're jogging down the street at the end of our endurance run I planned. A few minutes later we arrive back at the house and I wait for him to come running up.

He runs through the front gate and collapses onto the grass in front of the mansion. "I'm. Dying. Skylar." He says breathlessly. "Why. Do. We. Run. So. Much." He puts his hands over his eyes, huffing and puffing.

I sit down next to him and hand him a water. "You did great kid, I'm proud of you."

He removes his hands and glares at me. "Why didn't Marilyn have to do the work out with us today?"

"Because," I begin, standing and helping him up. "She's running a few errands for me."

He puts his arm around me and leans heavily on me, making me practically carry him into the house. "I could have run those errands for you," he mumbles, still out of breath.

I pat him on the back. "Okay, next time I need tampons I'll send you out."

"Ah!" He covers his ears as we enter the house and runs to the living room, throwing himself onto one of the couches.

"It's a natural process dude!" I yell with a smirk before going into the kitchen.

Dean and Jax sit at the counter of the bar, Jax laying his head on the cool granite counter and Dean is resting his head on his hand.

I chuckle, earning a glare from Jax. "I hate you," he mumbles, pushing his cheek back to the cool granite.

I lean against the counter in front of him, leaning as close to him as I can. "Would it make you feel better if I made breakfast?" I ask, flipping a piece of his hair.

He lifts his head so his chin is sitting on his arms. "You're a terrible cook Sky, no offense, but I'd rather eat dirt than eat anything you make."

"Fine," I agree, crossing my arms over my chest. "I'll get someone to come make breakfast for us. I would offer something else but it was for your own good. Cardio is good for you."

"How would you know what's good for me?" He mutters as I walk over to the phone on the wall to call someone to come make us breakfast.

"I got this," Dean says as he stands from his stool and walks around the counter into the kitchen. He goes over to the fridge to grab the food he's planning to cook.

I lean against the wall next to the fridge. "You sure? I can just call someone, no big deal."

He emerges from the fridge with eggs, bacon, hash browns, and milk. "Don't worry about it, this is fun for me. I used to cook for my family back in the day." He starts mixing a batch of pancake batter.

"What's your family like?" I wonder, sitting on the counter he isn't using. "I know practically everything about the other guys's families, but you haven't said much."

"Average family," he responded with a shrug. "I'm the oldest of six kids, all of my siblings are girls."

"Five girls? Six kids?" I ask, my eyes growing wider. "Damn, guess I can't complain to you about being an only child? I can't imagine having five siblings."

He warms a skillet and looks over at me. "It wasn't bad, I love all my sisters. Plus, having all those girls in the house made life pretty interesting. My dad left though when he learned my mom was pregnant with my littlest sister so I had to take up quite a few jobs for the first year she was born. Then I found the gang and the money I make is sent immediately to my family."