Page 97 of Still Love You

We go in the kitchen and I search the cupboards while Silas looks in the fridge.

"Soy milk, soy yogurt, tofu and some kind of unidentifiable leftover," he says, holding up a glass jar. My parents won't use plastic containers so everything goes in canning jars.

"That's it?" I ask.

"Pretty much. Did you find anything?"

I hold up a bag of kale chips. "Your favorite."

"Yeah, you can have those. What else is there?"

"Just a couple boxes of cereal, some bread, and a jar of almond butter." I shut the cupboard door. "My parents need to go shopping. It's been like this since I got back. We never have any food. With my mom's new job, she hasn't had time to go to the store. I told her I'd go, but we never have any money in the cash jar." I go over and check it. "There's still no money in here. Isn't that weird?"

"Your dad probably just forgot to fill it." Silas rushes out the words.

"Why are you talking so fast?"

"I'm not." He points to the kitchen island. "Check the drawer. Sometimes your mom puts granola bars in there."

I open the drawer but it's empty. I go over and stand in front of Silas. "You don't think my parents are having money problems, do you?"

"How would I know?" He opens the fridge again.

"I thought you just looked in there."

"I did, but maybe I missed something."

"So I guess we're not going to eat." I lean back against the counter. "Maybe you could sneak in your house and steal some junk food from your stash."

"My mom's a light sleeper. She'd hear me come in and think I'm a burglar and probably knock me in the head with a baseball bat."

"So she knows you're staying here tonight?"

"I texted her right after you feel asleep."

"Did you tell her we're back together?"

"No. Because when I texted her, I didn't know we were."

"Do you think she'll be happy?"

He places his hands on the counter on each side of me, blocking me in. "You know she will. She loves you." He smiles. "She'll probably make you another sweater."

I laugh. "Oh, God, I hope not. If she does, I'm going to tell her to make you a matching one."

"I don't wear sweaters. She knows that."

"Apparently you don't wear t-shirts either." I run my fingers down his chest.

He leans in and presses his lips to mine. "Not when my girlfriend steals them."

"I like it when you call me your girlfriend."

"You also like it when I do this." His hand slides up my inner thigh, landing between my legs.

"Silas," I whisper, my eyes shutting as I sink back against the counter.

His mouth covers mine for a slow, deep kiss. My hands go to his jeans and I undo his belt and yank at his zipper.

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