Page 56 of Fractured Faceoff

I shook off the feeling. The thought was ridiculous.

He pulled out a box of spaghetti and reached for a jar of marinara sauce from the fridge. The way he moved was casual yet confident—each motion seemed deliberate as hebegan gathering ingredients.

“Do you have garlic?” I asked, stepping closer to offer my assistance.

“Of course,” he replied without missing a beat. “You can’t have pasta without garlic.”

I chuckled softly as he tossed me a clove from the counter while he worked on boiling water in a pot.

I took it and started peeling it absentmindedly. The familiar scent filled the air as I crushed it against the cutting board with my knife. Watching him cook stirred something within me—a warmth I hadn’t felt in ages.

“Did you always know how to cook?” I asked, glancing up to see him stirring the pot.

“Had to learn or starve,” he said with a shrug but smiled as if recalling some memory that brought him joy. "Tried to teach Kash, but he didn't have the appreciation for it. Probably didn't help that I did everything for him."

“Noted,” I replied playfully.

The simple act of cooking together felt oddly intimate—his presence both grounding and exhilarating as we slipped into this easy rhythm that made everything else fade away for just a moment.

As I stirred the sauce, the fragrant aroma enveloped me, pulling me into a comfortable moment. I glanced over at Jared, who was focused on the pot. A thought nudged at my mind.

“What about Hazel?” I asked, curious about his sister.

Jared paused, looking up with a mix of surprise and affection in his eyes. “Hazel? She’s always been fiercely independent. Stubbornly so. She’d burn down the stove before she let me do something for her.” He chuckled, a hint of nostalgia in his voice. “I managed to wear her down, though. Now she lets me take care of her whenever she’s around.”

“She’s a travel blogger, right?” I asked, intrigued by what he might share.

He nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah! She’s got this incredible talent for capturing moments and telling stories. The places she visits... It’s inspiring. I’m so proud of her.”

A smile spread across my face as I imagined Hazel exploring distant lands and weaving tales through her photography. “I always remember out of everyone in that town, she was going to live life on her own terms.”

“Exactly,” he murmured, his gaze drifting off as if lost in thought. After a beat, he continued, anger flickering back to life in his tone. “It's why I was so damn furious when Weston Cole broke her heart. Not only is the bastard twice her age, but she loved him. Hazel doesn’t love people easily; it takes a lot for her to trust someone, and he ruined that.”

"She told you?" I pressed gently.

“Not in so many words,” he acknowledged with a sigh that spoke volumes about the weight he carried for his sister.

I felt a pang of sympathy for both of them—Hazel's heartbreak mirrored my own struggles with betrayal.

“Maybe there’s more to it,” I said softly.

“Why?” Jared's voice sharpened slightly as if bracing himself for something painful. "He say something to you in one of your sessions?"

“No,” I replied cautiously. “You know I can’t say either way.”

His expression hardened momentarily before relaxing again into contemplation as we stood there together.

“So,” I said, trying to change the subject. “What points did you want to go over?”

He leaned against the counter, his arms crossed, a contemplative look settling on his face. “When we were inMichelle’s office, I noticed how tense you got whenever I touched you. She might not have picked up on it, but Ava will.”

I blinked at him, unsure where he was going with this. “What do you mean?”

“I want to practice touching you,” he said slowly, as if the words hung in the air like a delicate thread. “Just so you can get comfortable with it, if that’s okay with you.”

I opened my mouth to argue but hesitated. He had a point. “I don’t know…”

“You’re a psychologist,” he replied, a hint of teasing in his voice. “Surely you understand the nuance of something like this.”

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