“You hungry?” I tilt the pan so she can get a look at the eggs I’m cooking.
“Starving. I was so tired I fell asleep before I could make dinner.”
“Well, this isn’t anything special. Eggs in a tortilla. I don’t think we have cheese, but we might have some hot sauce. I’ll have some groceries delivered tomorrow if you want to make a list of your favorites.”
“Hot sauce is perfect.”
I glance over my shoulder, expecting her to be joking. But she’s not even watching me. Her eyes move around the room, like she’s seeing something I’m not. It’s spotless from her cleaning earlier, but it’s still the same beat-up furniture and faded wallpaper I grew up with.
“It could use updating,” I say when her gaze pauses on the scratched kitchen table.
“It’s cozy.” She shrugs.
“You mean old and worn down?”
“I meanlived in. My uncle had a house… a couple of them actually. But even though they were spotless, they never felt like anyone lived there. Even my room was immaculate. The second I took anything out, his staff would sweep through and pick it up. We didn’t have scratches on tables or pictures on walls or memories.”
“I wish there weren’t so many memories here.”
She frowns, following my gaze around the room, and I’m glad she’s not seeing what I am. I’m glad she doesn’t know the grooves in the kitchen table are from when my dad would get drunk and have me plant my hand on it so he could jab his knife between my fingers as fast as he could. Even wasted, he was good at it, so he only stabbed me a couple of times, but it hurt like hell when he did.
She doesn’t see that the broken corner of the countertop is where Mom smashed a pan over it after catching my dad fucking a patch bunny in his room at the clubhouse.
She doesn’t see all the reasons I’ll never be good enough for her because of who I came from, and maybe that’s a good thing right now.
When the eggs are done, I split them between our tortillas and hand her a plate. On her first bite, she moans, and that sound sends blood rushing south. I’ve never been one to have any particular kinks. People think I’m an exhibitionist because I don’t mind fucking in public, but that’s more a matter of convenience than desire.
Watching Emery’s eyes light up as she chews has me thinking I do have a kink; I’ve only just now discovered it.
Making her happy, seeing her smile, taking care of her—I could get lost in that.
“It’s so good.” She moans around the next bite, and it’s nearly impossible to focus on my food.
I might as well be swallowing dust as I take a bite because it’s nothing compared to the taste of her.
“Glad you like it.” I clear my throat, trying to focus. “Thanks for cleaning up the house. You didn’t have to do that.”
“I don’t mind.” She shrugs, looking around. “It kept me busy.”
I take another bite, watching her from the corner of my eye. A lock of her dark hair falls from her bun, grazing her cheek. Brushing over those freckles that kept me up at night when I was searching for her. I couldn’t remember the exact pattern, and it drove me out of my mind.
Constellations she wears on her cheeks.
Wishing stars sparkling in her eyes.
“You’re staring.” She smiles, not looking at me.
“You’re beautiful.”
That snags her attention; her blue eyes slide my way. “You’re not shy about saying what’s on your mind.”
“It’s not something I haven’t told you before.” I shrug, and her blush deepens.
“This is odd, right?” Her lower lip pulls between her teeth. “We’re strangers, but also… not.”
“You’re not a stranger to me.”
“You barely know anything about me.”
