Page 106 of The Spider & the Storm

“Okay,” she whispered.

I kissed her again, then left the room to begin my day as I normally would. But …

It wasn't a normal day, was it?

Because today, I hadn't started the morning beneath a rain cloud of despair and loneliness. I had been pulled in from the storm, within the shelter of an impenetrable cloud, and for the first time in I didn't even know how long, I was happy. Truly and honestly happy.

And there really wasn't anything normal about that.

***

Stormy had dragged herself from my bed fifteen minutes later with her wild hair tied into an even messier knot and one of my T-shirts hanging over her frame. She sat at my little kitchen table with a cup of hot black coffee held within her hands, sipping periodically and closing her eyes, as if to will the caffeine to hasten its journey through her veins.

“So, when do you have to open the gate?” she asked, clearing her throat and taking another sip.

“Eight thirty,” I said, flipping the first omelet onto a plate and placing it in front of her.

“God, you cook too.” She shook her head as she poked at it with the provided fork before taking a bite. “Andit's edible. What the hell kinda bridge troll are you?”

“A domesticated one,” I muttered, followed by a laugh, as I set to preparing my own breakfast.

“Were you married?” She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Are there any psycho ex-wives I need to worry about?”

“Nope.” I shook my head. “Never been married.”

“I mean, you had to have lived with a woman before at least,” she accurately guessed, her mouth full as she pointed the tines of the fork in my direction. “And your mom doesn't count.”

I added diced peppers to the egg mixture in the frying pan and slowly nodded. “My brother's fiancée. She lived with us for a while.”

“God, I'm good,” she said triumphantly, pumping her fork-holding fist into the air before taking another bite. “They never got married?”

“Nope.” I took a deep breath and pressed my lips together, swallowing against a disappointment I had never been able to do anything about. “He had his issues, and after a while, she just … couldn't deal with them anymore. Not without losing herself.”

Stormy slowed her chewing as she stared at me, her green gaze heating with every passing second. “So, she what? Left you to clean up after him?”

It was a bold accusation for someone to make, and I began to shake my head, to defend the people of my past. But then Istopped myself and said, “I don't know that I'd put it that way. Luke and I … we kinda looked out for each other. He always looked out for me, and then when we were older, I looked out for him too. It was fine. It's … you know, we did what we had to do. It's just how it was.”

“And what about her?”

I thought about Melanie and where she might've gone after she left Luke. “I don't know,” I replied quietly while hoping she had wound up in a place where she always had time for herself, to do the things that made her happy.

I hoped she wasalwayshappy.

“You had feelings for her?” Stormy guessed, and I glanced at her, startled, before lifting one side of my mouth in something I hoped looked like a smile.

“For, like, two days a long, long time ago,” I admitted aloud for the first time. “Back when I had first met her and we were still kids. I thought she was pretty, and she was always nice to me, which definitely wasn't the norm. But that was very fleeting. She was never for me, and honestly, she became more like a mother figure to me once my mom wasn't around anymore.”

I turned off the stove and plated the omelet before taking it to the table. I sat across from Stormy, who had slowed her eating to watch me with intrigue. I pretended not to notice at first as I sprinkled my eggs with pepper and a dash of hot sauce. I sipped my coffee and set to eating, keeping my eyes from meeting hers. Had I said too much? Had I revealed more than I should've? Was it too soon to delve so deep into my past, and what the hell would her reaction be if I ever delved deeper?

Just stop thinking.

Stop talking.

Pretend it's a normal day.

I dived into my breakfast, cut a piece of omelet with the side of my fork, and began to shovel it into my mouth, when Stormy started to speak again.

“You asked me last night what had happened to me.”

---