Page 109 of Splintered Hearts

“I’ll make something in a minute, just relax.”

Jamie nods, finishing up. “What is all that?”

“Your mom let me have first dibs of the book sale they’re having this weekend. Mark took me after we ate. Oh! Look!” Grabbing my prized possession of the day, I can’t help the beaming smile.

Jamie turns, taking it in with a huge grin. “Amazing. You don’t have that copy?”

“Nope.” I look at the pink and purple cover, feeling so fucking happy. The illustrations are quirky and gothic. Stirring his tea, Jamie takes a seat across from me.

“Can I see?” I hand him the edition ofAlice in Wonderland. “Wow.” As he flips through, it’s hard to ignore the smudging under his eyes. “The illustrations are fucking creepy. I love it. It’s like horror with a childish twist. That’s a great find.” He hands it back and my stomach swoops.

I watch him as he takes a sip. “Good?”

“I love tea.”

“How’s the pain today? From one to ten?”

“Nine point seven.”

“I’m sorry.”

Jamie sets his cup down. “I’m alright, just a bit dramatic. I’m more uncomfortable than anything, and sleeping is a bitch. It shouldn’t bother me. I’ve always been a shit sleeper, but this is different—I’m constantly uncomfortable. I didn’t think I’d be this sore after a week.” Taking another sip, he keeps his eyes locked inside the cup.

“Are you tired now?” His tired eyes meet mine then look away, but he nods. “Are you sleeping with me tonight?”

Jamie’s lips purse as he nods. “Can you...”

“You want me to spoon you, don’t you?” I laugh.

“Pressure on my back. That’s all.”

“Sure thing. Let me eat something first, and then we can go to sleep.” I’ll listen to an audio while Jamie sleeps. I’m not really tired, and I don’t think my mind will let me relax right now.

“Can I teach you how to make something?”

“What?”

“Stuffed shells.” Finishing his tea, he gets up, grabbing ingredients from the fridge and cabinets. “It’s easy to make...well, the way I’m about to show you.”

“I don’t know how good I’ll be.”

“It’s not that hard, we’ll keep it simple.” He grabs a glass pan, some bowls, and a pot. “This is one of the first things my mom taught me to make. Grab the mozzarella and ricotta from the fridge, please. I have everything else.” I take the ingredients out, hyperaware of Jamie’s sluggish movements. “Turn the burner on. We can get the pasta going while we make the filling.” I wash my hands, then let Jamie do the same. “This is the recipe. I don’t need it but you can look at it. Just put the ingredients in the bowl for the filling. I’m doubling it for Xavi and Bri. Going to make them a pan while we’re at it.” I do what the directions say, with some slight guidance from him. It’s not hard at all, and for a moment, I can’t believe I’m actually making something. Jamie moves on muscle memory.

“I love Bri. She’s incredible.” I envy her talent and secretly want to be her test dummy. She texts me daily with new designs she’s trying, and for my opinion on makeup and the clothes she’s making. The way her mind works is insane. She’s so creative. “I love when she does my makeup.”

“She loves to experiment on us.”

“She’s done yours?” I ask.

“It’s hard to say no to her. She’s a pincher.” He smiles. “She’s really artistic. Makeup is her thing, but she’s a badass painter too. One time, she did my eyes all smoky black but then added like, purples and blues with white dots, making it look like the night sky across my eyes. It was awesome.”

“I’m trying to picture that.”

“I’m sure she’s got a picture somewhere.”

Mental note—ask Bri for that immediately. “Can I ask something a little personal?” And a lot embarrassing. He nods, stirring the pasta and splashing olive oil in the water. I have to push. I hate that the things Ben said to me stuck. I can’t help itthough. “Do you think I’m too feminine?” I hate this feeling, the insecurity of it. “That I like to paint my nails. The clothes I wear. The makeup. Stuff like that I mean, I—”

“Those aren’t male or female traits, they’re just traits. Anyone can have them. I like your nails, your clothes.” Jamie’s smirk grows wicked. “I like the perfume you wear, and that pink lip gloss.”

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