Page 15 of Used

The universe seems to be on my side, though, if she’s currently standing in my kitchen just waiting for me to comfort her, to show her how good I can be for her.

I try to pull her to me for the second time today, but she bats me off when I reach out.

“Don’t baby me.” She says indignantly. “I’m not your baby.”

“Okay…” I say patiently. “Elsie, what’s wrong?”

Tears start streaking down her cheeks, and I start to panic. This was not how I imagined our reunion going when I saw her again.

“Elsie. Talk to me. Why are you here?” I ask as calmly as I can manage.

If my mamá and sisters taught me anything, it’s that a woman crying is never a good thing.

“I’m… Ugh.” She says, wiping away her tears, clearly frustrated. “I’m hungry all the time, but half the time, I can’t figure out what I want to eat. Then, when I figure it out, I cannot keep it down. I’m exhausted and moody, and everything hurts. I’m so fucking done, Marshall. So. Fucking. Done.”

By the end of her tirade, the usual chill that Elsie speaks with is back, along with her commitment to looking at me like I’ve broken her favorite toy.

“Okay,” I say, reaching up to grab a glass from the cabinet and fill it with ice water from the fridge. “Why don’t you go sit down on the couch and get comfy. If you’re hungry, then I’ll make you something.”

“But…” She starts.

“No. If you don’t like it, then I’ll just make something else.” I say sternly.

“Fine.” She pauses on her way to the living room couch. “No beef. I can’t stand the smell.”

“Got it. No beef.” I chuckle.

Looking around, I grab the bread I had set down earlier and pop it onto a baking sheet. Then I go to the pantry to find ingredients for the only comfort food I know how to make and get to work. Ten minutes later, I’m pulling my creations out of the oven and putting them on a plate.

Walking into the living room, I find Elsie snuggled on the couch under the quilt my mamá had sewn.

I hold out the plate for Elsie as she unwraps herself from her blanket cocoon.

“Beans and toast?” She asks.

“Ah. Not quite.” I laugh. “Molletes. Toast, refried beans, cheese, and salsa. My mamá made it all the time for us growing up.”

“It smells delicious.” She says softly. “Gimme.”

The grabby hand motion she makes, combined with her hermit appearance under the quilt, makes me laugh, and I hand over the plate.

Sitting down on the coffee table before her, I watch as she takes her first bite.

When her eyes close and she moans in pleasure, my chest swells with pride. I don’t know how to make much, but I know mis familias recipes by heart.

“Good?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

She groans with a nod of her head and dives back into devouring the dish before her.

After a few minutes, with only the sound of her adorable munching, I break the silence.

“You wanna tell me why you broke into my place, poured water on me, and cleaned out my fridge?”

She takes her time to finish her snack before speaking.

“First off.” She clears her throat. “I didn’t break in. Selene gave me a key when I asked for it.”

“Alright. The other two statements are still true.”

---