How isit that I can fight to save my life, run black ops with my brothers, even break down a Glock in under thirty seconds, but I can’t work this fucking toaster. No matter how many times I've changed the settings on the stupid thing, I still end up with burnt toast.
Olivia's sitting at the island, legs tucked under her, hair still a little wet from the shower, and she’s wearing one of my hoodies that swallows her whole. And God help me, it might be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
She’s chewing quietly on the half-burnt toast, not even complaining, but give her time and she will, because it never stopped her before.
“I swear it was the toaster,” I mumble, flipping a pancake that’s not terrible.
“Sure, Chef Ramsay.”
I glance over my shoulder and she smiles, biting her lip.
“Want more coffee?”
She holds out her mug silently, and I top her up, letting the quiet fill the space between us. It’s not awkward. It’s just... easy.Comfortable. For the first time in years, I don’t feel like I’m walking on broken glass.
“I used to think about this,” she says softly. “Breakfast with you. After... everything.”
I set the pan down, leaning on the counter across from her. “Yeah?”
She nods, then chuckles. “Although in the fantasy, you didn’t burn the toast.”
“Wow. Brutal.”
She winks. I pretend to be offended. But really? I’d burn toast every damn day if it meant seeing her like this, barefoot, coffee in hand, and her eyes soft. This is what I always wanted with her.
I look up at the stairs at Declan and Trixie arguing about something, and as they reach the kitchen he shakes his head, at whatever Trixie is signing to him.
“I love you, but the answer is fucking no.” Trixie slaps her hand on the counter, and she signs again making Declan laugh, while Olivia and I watch them both like a tennis match. “Go and see what the fuck will happen.”
“D?” I ask the question without having to ask him.
“She thinks I’m fucking stupid. If she thinks she’s going out with Ash alone she must be fucking joking.” He takes my coffee and I nod agreeing with him, I mean the guy seems nice, and all but Trixie, even though she’s better now, she will still have a bad day and smoke that shit, which we all hate.
Trixie signs again, this time a lot faster then walks away.
“You’re so fucking lucky I love your mouth,” Declan shouts and rubs his forehead. “You two sure you want to start something; it’s a fucking headache.” He jokes and looks over at Olivia. “He can be a fucking pain in the ass. See you later.” He leaves the kitchen and I start laughing.
“What is the story there?” Olivia asks.
“Where do I start? Her dad remarried a bitch, the stepson was raping her from a young age, she got pregnant, didn’t have the baby, her dad never believed anything that happened to her, so she stopped talking. Then came Declan, and the rest is history.” I look at her, and she tilts her head, eyes wide. “You have questions?”
“I do.”
“Ask away.” I sip on my coffee.
“Why does she not talk now?”
“She does with Declan, not much in front of us, but she’s getting there. We don’t push her. She’s been through fucking hell. When she’s ready we’ll talk to her.”
“What?”
“Yeah, D wasn’t happy when he found out the truth.”
“When the hell did he learn to sign?” Olivia puts her coffee down and leans her elbows on the counter.
“He was sent to the Pit in the summer—” I quickly put my hand up to stop her. “Dad and Cain thought it was best if one of us learnt to live down there, so the Crawford family had it. Declan was the lucky one, messed him up but he’s good now.”
Olivia nods her head slowly, not sure what to say back to me about it, and I know she will have more and more questions, and I think I’ll be answering them for a long time.
