“I thought you knew what you were doing?” Jackson asks.
“I do. Natalie does this all the time and I watch her,” Dec replies.
“But you haven’t actually done it?”
“No, I’m only 7.”
“You’ll be 8 in three days,” he states dully. I’m pleased that he remembered Dec’s birthday.
“You’re like 40,” Dec counters.
I have to cover my mouth to stop from laughing out loud.
“Take that back. I’m 32.”
I peak just in time to see Dec shrug. They’re making pancakes. Or, attempting to.
“Does she even like chocolate chips?” Jackson asks and is met with silence. “Am I going to have to make another batch?” Dec only shrugs, again.
“I like chocolate chips,” I announce myself, saving him from his cooking-induced panic attack. They both turn to me, smiling wide, and it’s quite the welcome. I’ve never walked into a room and felt such… Belonging.
“We’re making you breakfast!” Dec announces proudly.
“I see that. Thank you. Do you need help?”
“Jackson does,” Dec whispers but it’s heard loud and clear.
“Hey,” Jackson scoffs in betrayal.
“Here, let me help before you burn them.” I lower the heat on the burner and bump them both out of the way with my hips. Dec takes off and bounces onto the couch but Jackson stays next to me. Very close.
“How are you feeling?” His words are meant to be discreet but his nearness sends a chill down my spine regardless.
“I’m good as new.” It’s not a complete lie. I’m still sad, but I do feel way better than I thought I would. “Thanks to you,” I admit, softly.
His smile spreads slowly across his face and it makes me smile but I look back toward the pan to hide it.
“Glad you’re back, fireball.” He sneaks a kiss against my hair and steps away to gather plates and utensils.
Little actions like that are too confusing for me. I like it but it scares the hell out of me. The second I believe that he’s the real deal everything will disappear. It always does.
“The apartment fire was not my fault. I don’t know why you call me that.” I feign annoyance. In reality, I’m starting to like all the little nicknames he gives me.
“That is not why I call you that.” He laughs from inside of the fridge, fetching the butter.
“Why, then?” I’m plating the pancakes and can’t look up but I sense his amusement. “You’re not going to tell me, are you?”
“Maybe someday.”
“You are such a pain in the as-”
“Are the pancakes done?” Dec interrupts and cuts off my insult to Jackson. An insult that does not hit its mark because he just winks at me.
“He looks like you now,” I comment about Dec’s hair for the first time since our big fight. It’s short on the sides, and longer on top. The blonde isn’t as bright anymore, now it’s darker and more similar to Jackson’s.
“Is that bad?” The big twin asks.
“No, it’s not bad.”