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I nudge the front door closed with my foot and walk Ingrid to the soft-looking sofa, gently laying her down, then pull off her shoes. Grabbing the lap throw, I place it over her body to keep her comfortable. She snuggles, her eyes remaining closed while I take a deep breath, wondering if I should leave, but I don’t want to leave her alone.
Dinner!I’ll make dinner. So I walk into the kitchen, having no fucking clue what she has in her kitchen or what the hell I’m going to make, but if this is something I can take off her hands for the night, then I’m going to do that for her.
Moving around the kitchen, I try to familiarize myself with everything. I glance in the refrigerator, gather some items, then move to the pantry and pick up a few more. I think I can get to work making a simple lasagna from scratch with what I have.
It will keep me busy for a while, so I get to work while she’s sleeping it off. I get lost making the recipe I used to watch my grandmother make for me and Arabella every weekend until she passed.
We would help her, and it’s literally the only thing I know how to cook.
Moving about her kitchen, the smell of garlic and onion filtering through her house reminds me ofmy childhood with my nonna. The one and only person I could turn to growing up who didn’t have an agenda for my life. When she died, it made life that much harder. I got angrier at the world, and I think that’s when my ‘switch’ activated.
It doesn’t happen often, but if something sets me off, I can get angry fucking fast. It’s why my brothers in LA called me South, because shit can go south in an instant, and it’s also a play on my surname, North.
It usually takes a while and something substantial for me to snap. And generally, it’s when it triggers something emotional inside me. But I don’t need to be thinking about all that right now. I have something, no someone, I need to focus on.
Once I place the finished lasagna in the oven, I make us a coffee, then grab an ice pack from the freezer, wrap it in a dishtowel, and head to the living room. Ingrid is still out cold, and I smile while looking at her beautiful form, then place the coffee on the table.
I softly rest my hand on her arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Ingrid?” I whisper.
She murmurs, her long lashes slowly blinking as she wakes. When she realizes it’s me, she inhales sharply and goes to move, but I stop her.
“Hey, it’s okay. Take your time, you’re recovering.”
Ingrid slowly sits up, glancing over her shoulder to the kitchen. “What’s that smell?”
“I made lasagna…” I hand the ice pack to her. “Here, put this on your wound. They said to put an ice pack on a few times over the next forty-eight hours, remember?”
Her brows crease, and she cautiously places the pack on her breast. “You made lasagna,andyou remembered about the ice pack?”
Chuckling, I shrug. “Man of many talents.”
“I’m beginning to see that.” She gently eases into a sitting position as she studies me. “How does a biker know how to make lasagna and have it smellingthatgood?”
I slide onto the sofa next to her and relax. “You can thank my nonna for that.”
She raises her brow. “You’re Italian?”
“Half. On my mother’s side. Though, the heritage was instilled through the family growing up.”
She makes herself comfortable and faces me. Her feet are beside me, so I lift and bring them to my lap and begin rubbing each foot. She smiles, and I’m pleased she doesn’t make a move to stop me.
“You grew up in LA?” she asks.
“I did. Spent my life there, though I always had this pull to want to see other places. My father has been around the world for his job, and he’d tell me about all the places he’s been, all the things he’s seen. I think that’s why when the position came up for me to transfer to New Orleans, I took it. You know… a chance for me to see something new.”
Ingrid narrows her eyes on me like she’s trying to put the pieces together. “And do you have siblings?”
I nod. “An older sister.”
“What made you want to join Defiance?”
My breathing stops as I look at her, wondering how to play this next move. “Someone told me once that I could be anything I wanted to be, do anything I wanted to do. That I should stop living under the shadow of my family. I took her advice.”
Ingrid’s eyes widen, and her mouth drops open as she slowly pulls her feet from my grip. She sits up taller, staring at me so intensely it’s like she’s trying so hard to see me, really see me. I can see the cogs turning in her mind as she puts the pieces together while my heart rapidly fires in my chest, waiting for her to say something.
Anything.
“What’s your name? Yourrealname, South?” Her voice is barely above a whisper.
