AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Something fierce filled my veins. If hehadtold on Rose, if he was the reason she and her sons were dead, just so that he could acquire her shop . . .
I felt murderous and sick with nausea . . . I’d slept withthatprick.
I sped up my turtle speed and caught up to Von, all the while fighting the bile rising in my throat. My face probably looked as sour as the taste in my mouth.
Von glanced at me. “As I said, horrible taste in men.”
“I likeyou,” I jabbed.
He nodded, flashing those wickedly sharp teeth. “Exactly.”
Idried my hands on the corner of my apron while I leaned over the counter, trying to decipher the recipe written in Kaleb’s chicken scratch. Kaleb never did much cooking—he had one signature dish, and this was it.
The stubborn drawer resisted when I tried to pull it open. Something was lodged inside, keeping it closed. I wedged my hand in, the top of the drawer biting against my wrist. I pushed down the wooden spatula inside and the drawer opened. I plucked out a knife and shoved the drawer shut with the side of my hip.
After I diced the red peppers and onions, I threw them into a sizzling pan over a dim fire—perfect for cooking over. I sautéed them in a thick layer of butter, scenting the kitchen in the smells of a homemade meal. I breathed them in, remembering when I would come home from training and Kaleb would be here, standing in this very spot, cooking this very dish.
My gut twisted.
I returned to the counter and grabbed a bowl from a top shelf, inspecting it to ensure it was clean, then moved on to cracking eggs.
Besides the crackling fire and sputtering frying pan, the cottage was quiet—Ezra’s door still closed, despite it being around noon. Von had left shortly after we returned to the cottage. Wherever he shadow walked to, he didn’t bother to say. When he was coming back, he also didn’t bother to say. My fingers drifted to my neck, floating over the now-healed spot. As soon as I touched it, a droplet of a shiver grew in intensity, rippling throughout my body. I clutched the counter to steady myself, my eyes going wide.
What was that?
The smell of something burning wafted towards me. Cursing, I grabbed a towel, wrapped it around the handle of the pan, and took it off the fire. I eyed the sad, burnt crisps of peppers and onions and charcoaled butter. Sighing, I dumped them out and started all over again.
After lunch was done, I carried two heaping plates outside.
“I made your signature dish.” I lowered the plate on top of his resting place, just beside his axe. I sat down on the lumpy ground, crossing my legs, and deep dived into a bit of sibling rivalry. “Looks like the competition is on now.” I shifted to a cocky tone. “I’m not bragging, but I’m pretty sure I’ve got you beat.”
I waited for Kaleb to reply, to make things interesting by raising the stakes, just as he usually did. When he didn’t, I continued, “Loser does dishes for a week?” I nodded, confirming that was the deal, and cut into the ingredient-specific omelet with the side of my fork. I took my first bite. Tasting it, I let it sit on my tongue. But as I looked at my brother’s untouched plate, it turned bland in my mouth.
My shoulders drooped. “It’s not as good as yours.”
After I was done eating, I returned inside and cleaned up my cooking-derived mess. When everything was clean and sparkling, I leaned against the counter, my hands spreading out behind me. I tilted my head to the side, eyeing Ezra’s closed door. This was ridiculous. She had never slept in this long before. I took the dishcloth draped over my shoulder, flopped it over the sink, and trotted over to her door.
I knocked gently against it before I propped it open, sticking my head through the crack in the door. “Ezra?”
Clothes were strewn carelessly on the floor, creating a trail that led up to the bed. I eyed a suspicious pair of pants—they looked like a man’s. My gaze shifted, moving to the carefully polished shoes that clearly also belonged to a man, one teetering on its side and the other sitting upright, like their owner had been in a hurry to get them off.
Ezra’s head popped up from under the sheets, her gray hair wild, her milky white eyes even wilder.
A second head darted up just behind her.
I gasped.
Joe gasped.
Ezra flopped back down, her hand shooting out from the covers, dismissing me as if I were unwanted room service.
Joe sat at the table while Ezra bumbled around the kitchen, the hem of her robe dusting the floor. I stood by the dwindling fire, warming up lunch for the two apparent lovebirds.
Joe cleared his throat, his voice solemn. “I am sorry about Kaleb.”
My breath caught, hooked in the back of my throat. It was strange hearing those words strung together.
“Thank you, Joe,” I squeezed out, eyes locked on a dark knot in the floorboards, staring at nothing.
