Page 82 of Stick Work

It's late when we get home, and since we can’t do anything after hours on New Year’s Day, we head inside. “You should let Kalen know we’re home.”

“Okay,” I say, and shoot him a text.

“Maybe not tell…”

A humorless chuckle catches in my throat. “Wasn’t going to.”

“Hungry?” he asks, moving toward the kitchen. I follow him and he pulls open the fridge as I shoot Sahara a text to see if she’s free tomorrow for lunch. I’m not sure how much I’m going to tell her, but Elias will be at practice and I just need someone to talk to. She’s the one person other than Elias—and my brother—that I truly trust. Not that I am quite ready to tell my brother any of this.

“There’s not much here,” he tells me when I step into the kitchen and the second he looks at me, he pulls me to him, wrapping me in his comforting embrace. “We can order in. What sounds good? Mexican. Chinese. Italian.”

As soon as I think about those food choices, my stomach clenches, nausea creeping in. “Would toast and eggs be okay?”

He inches back and smiles at me. “You’re suggesting the one thing I actually know how to make well.”

I laugh. “I know. I’ve lived with you since I moved to Boston, remember?” He grins and I continue, “But honestly, that’s all I feel like having.” I rub my stomach again. “I hope I didn’t catch something in Vegas.”

He puts his hand to my forehead. “Not warm. But why don’t you go curl up on the sofa, and I’ll take care of this?”

I go up on my toes and give him a kiss. It’s light, breezy, a fast thank you peck on the lips, but everything in the way he looks at me makes it feel like so much more.

“Go.” He gives me a playful whack on my butt and I chuckle as I hurry into the other room, stretch out on the long end of the sofa and thinking back to when I purchased it for Elias.

I flick the TV on and my phone pings. I grab it to see a message from Sahara.

* * *

Sahara: Lunch sounds great. The Nook?

* * *

Me: Perfect.

* * *

I’m about to set my phone down but it pings again.

* * *

Sahara: Everything okay?

* * *

God, am I really that easy to read? As I stare at the screen, trying to figure out what to text back, another fresh wave of emotions wash over me and my throat tightens. Not wanting to get into it tonight I message back.

* * *

Me: Yeah, all is good. Just want to catch up.

* * *

I hit send, blinking back the burn behind my eyes. From the kitchen, I hear the sound of eggs sizzling, the faint click of the spatula against the pan. The scent of toast drifts through the air, and my appetite comes rumbling back.

Elias walks into the room, two plates balanced in his hands and I don’t miss the exhaustion clinging to him. My chest tightens as I take in the dark circles under his eyes, the slight sag in his shoulders. The man needs sleep, yet here he is, taking care of me. While I’ve always wanted to be out on my own, completely independent to live my life the way I want with no one to answer to but myself, I don’t hate this. In fact, I like it. A lot.

When did this shift in me happen? I’m not sure, I only know it did.

He hands me a plate and settles in beside me. “Find anything good to watch?”

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