Page 29 of Shut Up and Bite Me

She freezes the second she sees me, her eyes softening.

“What’s going on in here?” I ask, examining the endless ingredients strewn across the island.

She huffs, humor gleaming in her eyes as she returns her focus to the bowl. “I’m making breakfast.”

My heart clenches as I take a seat on a stool on the opposite side of the island. “You don’t eat food.”

Her gaze flicks up to me from the bowl, glaring at me through her dark, long eyelashes. Her lips part, but before she says a word, she hesitates and takes a deep breath. “I’m making them for you.”

Tingles dance across my chest at her words. “You’re makingmebreakfast?”

“Oh no, you don’t have an allergy or anything, do you? Do you even eat muffins? Shit, I totally didn’t ask,” she apologizes, and I reach my hand across the island and rest it on top of hers.

“First, take a breath for me. I don’t have any allergies. And I love muffins.” I smile, my throat burning as I debate whether or not to share more.

“What is it, then?” she asks, her eyes searching mine.

“What do you mean?”

She calmly sets the bowl and whisk down. “I could feel your discomfort.”

Honest to God, I have no idea how I forgot about that special talent of hers.

Closing my eyes, I smile softly before meeting her concerned stare. “That has absolutely nothing to do with you.”

A moment of silence passes between us.

Mustering up the nerve to open up, I clear my throat. “It means a lot that you’re doing this.” I pause, wondering whereto even start. “I didn’t have a lot of home-cooked meals growing up. I bounced around a lot between foster homes. A lot of them didn’t provide or care the way they should’ve.”

She listens intently, flipping her hand over and caressing mine as I continue. “I got lucky at the end though, ending up in the care of Cheryl Harper. She was the first person who ever really cared about where I ended up. She was my family and the best person I’ve ever known. I wish I had told her that more before she passed. Other than her, I’ve never really had someone make me breakfast before.”

A blade rakes down my throat as I finish, the vulnerability making me nauseous.

“I’m sorry life wasn’t kinder to you. You deserved better than that. But I’m glad that you had her,”she murmurs, her voice soft and warm. “How long ago did she pass?”

“A few years now. She went out doing one of her favorite things—napping.” I chuckle, reminiscing at her love for afternoon snoozes.

She grins. “Sounds like a good way to go.”

“Yeah,” I mumble.

She glances down at the bowl. Her nostrils flare and eyebrows pinch as a tear wets her lashes. “I got this recipe from a friend of mine. She used to make these all the time, and I remember how delicious they were. I could never quite get them to turn out the same as her though. Hers were always better.”

I know the look in her eyes, recognizing the fogginess that forms when you recall a memory of someone who’s no longer with you. Sliding my hand from hers, I rise from my stool and walk around the island, leaning my back against the counter, my fingers wrapped under the lip.

She turns around and leans next to me, her arm resting against mine.

“What was her name?”

She smiles hauntingly as she looks down at the hardwood floor. “Genevieve.” She gulps hard. “God, it’s been so long since I spoke her name out loud. She was sunshine personified. Her hair was light like yours, but her eyes were almost identical to mine. She was so beautiful and kind.”

My heart aches for her. I don’t need her ability to be able to tell how painful this is for her to recall.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, dropping my hand and intertwining my fingers with hers.

She tilts her head up, her hazel stare peering up at me through the pool of tears gathering in her eyes. “It’s okay. It’s nice, actually. To talk about her.”

“It’s the way we keep the ones we lost alive.”

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