Page 70 of Saints & Sailors

Dreux shrugged. “Got you to smile, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, you did. Thanks.”

He reached out and patted my knee. “So, I guess this makes us friends.”

I didn’t exactly know where I fit in or belonged anymore, but a friendship was a good place to start. We’d called a truce and were now carpooling together, thanks to my misdeeds, so yeah, friends was appropriate.

I palmed his cheek, being the most serious I’d ever been. “Don’t be like everybody else.”

Dreux leaned into my hand, giving me this adorable look. “I won’t.”

Sensing that it was just enough, he gathered his guitar once more. “So, what next?”

Soft knocking woke me up Thursday morning.

As if waking up before my alarm on my own wasn’t annoying, being woken up was absolutely nerve-wracking.

I groaned as I peeked an eye open. Scott was in my doorway.

“Hey,” he said with a little wave. “Morning.”

I reached for my cell phone on my nightstand. Against my lock screen image of an ocean wave, the time read 6:57 a.m. Three minutes before my alarm was set to go off.

“Morning,” I said as I slowly and stiffly got up.

“I got the day off and I figured we’d have breakfast.” Scott was moving awkwardly from foot to foot. “I’ll take you to school, too.”

“Um, I’m okay riding with Dreux.”

Scott stilled. “Oh, well, I was just thinking. Fresh start, fresh pancakes.” His smile was almost sad. “Corny, huh?”

I rubbed at my eye. “Little bit, yeah.”

Honestly, it was almost cute how Scott was trying. For some people, their fathers didn’t give a shit from the start. I guessed Scott’s attempts at salvaging our relationship should’ve counted for something.

Scott left me to get up and prepare for school. Every step of the way I kept picturing his face and the idea of him getting up extra early on his day off to make me breakfast.

He’d said he wanted this second chance, more than anything, and besides the obvious, I couldn’t wrap my head around why.

Once dressed for school, I made my way downstairs hypnotized by the aroma of Scott’s cooking.

He had made more than just pancakes, as I found a good spread of everything: eggs, bacon, toast, sausage, grits, and hash browns. Just like the first day I’d been here for breakfast.

Scott took a stab for nonchalant as he stood at the breakfast bar. “Just a little something.”

“Yeah.” I snorted. “Right.”

It was entirely too much food, but it meant a lot that he went through all the trouble.

“Your lunch is in the fridge,” Scott said.

And he made me lunch, as he was quickly becoming accustomed to.

Ah hell.

I took a seat at the table. I couldn’t leave the guy hanging. “Fresh start, fresh pancakes, right?”

Slowly, Scott smiled as he came over to the table, unsure what to make of my actions.