Page 95 of Hollow Heart

Of course, that might’ve had something to do with the man who made it, and not the dish itself, since I left before I could even get a taste.

“I can’t remember the last time someone made me a grilled cheese. Probably my mom when I was sick, when I was a kid.”

I get up from the couch, slowly making my way to the kitchen as I watch Duncan get the ingredients together.

Watch the way his shoulders move as he spreads butter over two pieces of crusty bread, the way the shadows fall on his face.

God, he’s aged so fucking well.

He might’ve been positively delicious when he was younger, but now...

I swallow harshly and try not to stare.

“You don’t talk about your parents much. Not even in articles.”

I take a seat on one of his barstools at the counter, focusing on his prepwork.

“That’s because there’s nothing to talk about. My dad left when I was eleven. Went out for a pack of cigarettes, never came back. Mom never recovered and spent the remainder of my life at home working double shifts so we could survive.”

Duncan turns on a burner, letting the griddle heat up.

“Dad tried to come back a couple years later, after I had my first hit. Looking for money, and I gave it to him. Never heard fromhim again. Mom... she’s out reliving her lost years in Europe somewhere. Fuck if I know where.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, dropping a buttered piece of bread on to the griddle. It sizzles when it makes contact, screeching at first, then fading to nothing.

“It’s fine. It is what it is.”

“And Sully?” Duncan presses some cheese onto the unbuttered side, then tops it with a fresh piece of buttered bread.

“Sully, Eddie, and Corpse were hired to be my band after my first album. When I started touring. He wasn’t the first guy I?—”

Duncan moves back against the counter as he turns the burner down, letting the sandwich heat slowly.

“He made the pain feel better. For a while. Then I wanted more, and he?—”

“Didn’t want the same thing?” Duncan asks as he flips the sandwich. The sizzle screams as the fresh buttered bread hits the hot surface, fading within seconds to nothing again.

“Not really, I guess. In the end, anyway. He left, and I was a mess. But somehow, I’m the bad guy, you know? I’m the one who’s a problem forhim.”

Duncan flips the sandwich once more, pressing it with a spatula into the griddle, making the butter sizzle longer.

“And then today when I saw him, he started his fucking gaslighting bullshit, and I snapped.”

I close my eyes, shaking my head.

“His new manager was there, and I’m sure by now it’s on everyone’s TikToks. Lou was pissed.”

I open my eyes to see a plate of freshly made grilled cheese in front of me, and my stomach growls.

Duncan sets to fixing himself a sandwich as I take a bite out of mine, and it’s amazing.

Hot, melty, and satisfying. I can’t help but groan in satisfaction.

“This fucking slaps, Duncan.”

The way his eyebrows lift, surprised, but somewhat joyful tells me he really thinks this is mediocre.

But nothing Duncan McKay does is mediocre.

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