Page 24

“Yes.”

“You keep leaving them open.”

His brow pulls together. “But I might go back.”

“So far, you haven’t.”

He surveys the kitchen as if reviewing the evidence while I close the final cabinet. The moment my hand drops, he opens the pantry again.

I fold my arms. Kell turns his head toward me, and I’m almost certain he knows exactly what he’s doing.

“You’re going to be trouble, aren’t you?”

A smile spreads across his face. He’s not Locke. Not remotely Locke.

I turn toward the stove before he can see my grin. “I’m making breakfast.”

“Breakfast.”

“You know that one?”

“Yes.”

I take eggs and butter from the fridge, then retrieve bread from the pantry Kell has helpfully left open for me. He follows every movement with enough concentration to make scrambled eggs feel like a live demonstration. When I set a frying pan on the stove, he moves closer.

“You hungry?”

Kell considers that. “Do not know.”

“Helpful.”

I crack one egg into a bowl. Before I can reach for another, he picks one up and rolls it carefully between his fingers.

“What is this?”

“An egg.”

He turns it over once more, studying the shell. When his fingers tighten slightly, I point the whisk at him. “Careful.”

“I know.”

“You’ve never held an egg before.”

He gives me a look that somehow manages to be patient. “Still know careful.”

Fair. I turn back to the bowl and reach for another egg, but Kell lifts the one in his hand slightly, stopping me. “Mine.” It looks as though breakfast has become a team sport.

“Okay. Tap it against the edge of the bowl. Gently.”

Kell does. Nothing happens.

“A little harder.”

The second tap caves in half the shell. Yolk and white drop into the bowl while the rest runs between his fingers. Kell stares at his hand. I bite the inside of my cheek hard enough to keep my face under control.

“Too hard,” he says.

“A little.” I hand him a wet cloth and he wipes the egg white off his fingers.