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Cautiously, trying again, I voice my opinion. "Lark, I really don't think that's it, but maybe try asking Braeden first. Do you really think he'd lie if you came right out and asked him?"
That seems to get through to her, and when she shakes her head, I internally sigh in relief.
"Thanks, Rex. I think I'm just getting lost a bit in my own head. Group talks are nice and all, but I think a little more one on one might help too."
I can't deny that might be a good approach but keep it to myself. Things are tentatively okay, and I want to keep them that way. I stick out my hand for her to take, which she does after a moment's hesitation— and together we walk back to the cabin.
Lark
After we get back, Emmett and Rex have to leave to make their meeting time. I even squash my suspicions enough to give Emmett a goodbye hug, and he squeezes me tight seeming relieved about it. They go out the door with Marcus, who is taking them to a vehicle hidden on the property. Apparently he has several escape routes planned, and that at least makes me feel better. After they've out of sight I go find Apollo to see if he minds me taking over his kitchen. Some stress baking sounds like a good idea to work out some of my issues. And barring the mood swings, that's exactly what they are— my own issues.
Thankfully, I don't run into Brade before I come across Apollo who is kicked back, barefoot, reading in the den. All informal, he's so adorable that I hesitate to bother him. A moment later, the decision is taken out of my hands when he addresses me without looking up. Even relaxed, he's still vigilant.
"Nightingale, is there something I can help you with?" His voice sounds softer than usual, tired, and I wonder if the stress is getting to him, too. Maybe I should see if he wants to join me.
"Well, I was hoping it would be okay to use the kitchen. Make some cookies or something. If you don't mind?" He sets his book aside to talk to me.
"Of course you can. I'm surprised you haven't been in there already. Is something making you uncomfortable? Because I hope you know you're more than welcome to anything here." He actually seems perturbed that I might not feel comfortable in his home.
"Uh, yeah, I do, for the most part. Just some areas, the kitchen being one of them, seem like I shouldn't intrude on them." My fingers twist together nervously as I speak.
"Like what?" he asks curiously.
"Well, like I said, the kitchen for one. It just seems like it's your room more than anything else, but then there's your office and the security room— which I understand. Then there's the basement, but I can't say I really want to go down there. I guess those feel like something I shouldn't mess with or intrude on."
He nods along with my explanation and replies as soon as I'm done. "Yes, I can see how it would appear that way. Would you like to go into any of those areas? Or have access to them at least?
"I don't know. Maybe if I needed to, I suppose."
There's a brief pause before he answers. "Hmm, let me think on some of it, but you have free rein in the kitchen, and if you want to make meals or anything else like that, just let me know. I'll be more than happy to turn over the duty to you; although I might occasionally join you if you're amenable."
Even after the time we've spent together, his instances of proper speech still throw me. "That leads me to my next part. Do you want to join me now? Or not?" I trail off, unsure how to finish the sentence without sounding like I don't want him around.
He must pick up on it some because he doesn't take me up on the offer. "No, no, I'm quite comfortable where I am now, and you seem like you could use some time to decompress without one of us underfoot." I smile in thanks and go to back out of the room when he stops me. " You know if there's anything you want to talk about, I'm more than happy to listen, right?"
I nod my head before awkwardly answering him. "Yeah, I know. It's just a few things that I think some mindless baking will help with, but I'll keep it in mind."
"I'll be in here if you need assistance," he imparts as I leave for the kitchen.
By the time Braeden follows his nose to the chocolate chip cookies baking in the oven, I feel somewhat better.
"Is it safe to come in here?" he inquires from the doorway. He wears a small smile but also looks like he's prepared to duck and run.
"No flying pans today, so you can come on in." When he gets closer and props himself up on the counter, I slide the first plate of cooled cookies down to him.
He picks one up and starts eating it before he finally braves to ask, "Want to talk about what your problem was earlier? About whatever I did to piss you off?"
I think about deflecting for a moment, but then decide that I really want to know. "Yes, actually, there was something. I think that you weren't just talking with Emmett on your run, and that's how you really got a splinter in your back."
Brade narrows his eyes at my vague implications. "Care to elaborate on exactly what else we would have been doing out there, Birdie?"
There's no way I'm backing down from that challenge. "Well, I don't know. You're the one that told me that you didn't have a shirt on and that you were leaning against the tree. And somehow you didn't notice getting impaled by something the size of a toothpick? Usually, if a guy is that oblivious, his dick is involved."
Color paints Brade's olive-toned cheeks as his annoyance rises. "So you think what, that I was getting a nooner BJ from Emmett? Or maybe we were taking turns— how exactly did this scenario play out in that head of yours?"
"In my head, huh?" I'm incredulous. "If we're going that route, I saw it as you getting your rocks off with one of my possible baby daddy's mouths, and during your happy ending, you rubbed on the tree and didn't notice!"
We're nearly nose to nose, and I start to consider death to bestie by cooking implements when he keeps on.
