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Is he making a joke?
When he smiles, I know the answer is yes.
This is too much.
That breakdown is not too far away. “S-sure,” I fumble, tripping over my words as I know Saxon is currently doing that for me, but I don’t want Sam to know that, as he’ll soon discover that I spent the night in Saxon’s room. And more importantly, in his bed.
Sam appears happy by my response.
He looks at the mountains of diaries surrounding him, then back up at me. I sigh and wave him off. “I’ve got them. Just go make coffee.”
“Sorry again.” When he appears genuinely apologetic, I push down my anger, as him being remorseful is better than him biting my head off. And I also see a glimmer of the old Sam breaking the surface.
I don’t reply, but instead place my belongings on the floor and reach for an empty cardboard box. Sam watches me for a moment before leaving me to clean up his mess.
Looking around at my most treasured memories, I slump into the middle of the room and brush back my matted hair. I should be happy Samuel wants to remember me, but I’m not. Reading one’s diary is not kosher, but considering Sam’s situation, I guess I could cut him some slack. In a weird, completely messed up way, he was only trying to uncover who he was. WhoIwas. But why am I not happy?
This is the first real effort he’s made since coming home, and although it’s only been a week, it feels like a lifetime. It feels like I’m doing life without parole.
* * * * *
I shower in record time, feeling human once I dry off and slip on my jeans and PETA tee. The straw cowboy hat looks at me from the bedroom floor, presenting me with the option that it’ll hide my bird nest perfectly. But wearing it around Sam feels wrong. Sighing, I pick it up and hide it in my closet.
The smell of strong coffee has my taste buds dancing in delight as I close the bedroom door and amble down the hallway. I have no idea what I’m about to walk in to, considering Sam and Saxon are in the kitchen, both making coffee. I don’t hear any yelling, so that’s a good start.
Both brothers turn around when I enter, which makes me feel a touch uncomfortable. It’s Saxon’s eyes I meet first and he thankfully smiles, before returning to the bacon popping on the stove.
“Sax was already making coffee and breakfast,” Sam explains, pulling out three plates from the cupboard.
“Smells good,” I say, standing on tippy toes to look over Saxon’s broad shoulders.
From what I can see, he’s working the stove like a whiz. Eggs, bacon, sausage, and flapjacks are on the menu, my ravenous stomach growling in excitement. Sitting on the stool, I watch in interest as Samuel quickly reaches for a mug and pours a cup of coffee.
“Do you take sugar? Cream?” he asks, looking directly at me.
I glance over my shoulder to ensure there’s no one behind me. “Just black,” I reply when I find my voice.
He places the mug in front of me and smiles.
I look at it apprehensively, wondering if it’ll jump up and bite, as there’s got to be a catch to why Sam is being so nice to me. Yesterday’s Sam was a right royal asshole, who made his feelings for me perfectly clear, so why the sudden change of heart?
This predicament is not helping my growing headache and I rub my brow.
“Is there room for one more?”
“Piper!” I exclaim, jumping up from the stool, thankful someone else is here to make conversation.
My on edge behavior has Saxon turning to look at me over his shoulder, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
“Sure, Piper,” he says, gesturing to Samuel to grab another plate.
Piper narrows her eyes. She’s onto me. “You okay, Luce?”
“Yeah, fine,” I reply, sitting back down as I’m standing like an idiot. “Just tired.”
Saxon’s eyes meet mine, peering in on my secret silently.
“Where do you want these?”
