Guiding her to the sink, I turned on the cold water and placed her finger under the stream. She winced but didn't pull away.
"Stay there," I instructed, heading to the fridge and grabbing the first aid kit I kept on hand for accidents.
Returning to her side, I turned off the faucet and gently dried off her finger with a clean towel. Her eyes followed my movements, curious and a little wary.
"Doesn't look too bad," I murmured, pulling out a bandage from the kit.
Carefully, I wrapped it around her finger, making sure it was secure but not too tight. Our hands brushed together briefly, sending an unexpected jolt through me. I glanced up at her face; she was watching me intently, a small smile playing on her lips.
"Thanks," she said softly.
I shrugged. "No big deal."
She pulled her hand back and inspected my handiwork. "You're pretty good at this."
"I've had practice," I replied gruffly.
Beth nodded and returned to slicing vegetables more carefully this time. I picked up where I'd left off with the bread, our earlier rhythm returning but with a new layer of understanding between us. The silence wasn't uncomfortable anymore—it felt almost companionable.
The kitchen filled with the smell of bacon and fresh-cut vegetables. The air seemed lighter somehow, less weighed down by my usual thoughts.
For a moment, just a moment, it felt like maybe things could be different. Maybe not every day had to be hard. Maybe there was room for small joys like breakfast with a friend who wouldn't give up on me—even when I tried pushing her away.
Like an annoying fly.
Beth placed a pan on the stove and turned on the burner. "All right, Daryl, time to learn how to make an omelette," she announced with enthusiasm.
I raised an eyebrow. "You really think I can do that?"
"Of course," she replied confidently. "First, crack a couple of eggs into this bowl."
She handed me a bowl and two eggs. I cracked one carefully, feeling the shell give way under my fingers. The yolk landed neatly in the bowl, but the second egg wasn't as cooperative. Bits of shell mixed with the egg.
Beth chuckled. "Not bad for a first try." She fished out the shell pieces with a fork and handed me a whisk. "Now, whisk it all together until it's smooth."
I followed her instructions, watching as the yolks and whites blended into a uniform mixture. It felt oddly satisfying.
"Good job," she said approvingly. "Now, add a pinch of salt and pepper."
I did as she instructed, then watched as she added a bit of butter to the heated pan. It sizzled and melted quickly.
"Pour the eggs in slowly," she directed.
I tipped the bowl over the pan, letting the mixture spread evenly. The smell of cooking eggs filled the air, mingling with the scent of bacon.
"Now," she said, "we wait for it to set a bit before adding fillings."
I glanced at her curiously. "What kind of fillings?"
"Whatever you like," she replied with a smile. "We have cheese, tomatoes, onions... your choice."
"Cheese and tomatoes sound good," I decided.
Beth nodded and sprinkled some grated cheese over one half of the omelette. She added sliced tomatoes next, their vibrant red contrasting with the yellow eggs.
"Okay," she said, holding a spatula out to me. "Gently fold it in half."
Taking the spatula from her hand, I slid it under one side of the omelette and lifted carefully. It folded over smoothly, trapping the fillings inside.
