Page 86 of Tameron

He held up a shopping tote.

Creek immediately shot up straight. “Home-cooked food? That you made?”

“Seafood pasta, and yes. I messed up an order and made the wrong thing, so Zayd told me to take it home.”

There was another man with a lot of patience. I gave Bean’s boss loads of credit for hiring a man with such substantialmemory issues. Not many businesses would’ve made that decision, but Zayd had, and Bean loved his job as a cook.

“I could eat,” I said.

Creek nodded, then cocked his head. “Nash won’t be home until the morning. He’s on a night shift.”

We all looked at each other, then grinned. “Couch,” we said in unison.

Nash was strict about eating at the dinner table, which was fair enough since it was his house. But when he wasn’t home, we often ate on the couch, feeling like rebellious teenagers.

“You stay,” I told Creek, who really shouldn’t be on his feet anytime soon. “I’ll grab plates and stuff.”

“I’ll heat up the pasta,” Bean said.

A few minutes later, we all sat with a plate of steaming pasta in our hands. Smart as he was, Bean had heated the pasta, not the individual plates, so they weren’t too hot for us to hold. And god, it smelled amazing.

“How was work?” Creek asked Bean. We always asked him because repetition helped him remember things better. And because we couldn’t count on him to voluntarily tell us anything out of the ordinary because, half the time, he had no recollection.

“Good. I tried out a new recipe with salt-crusted snapper as a special of the day, and it sold out.”

I blinked. Had he really recounted that without checking his little black book for details? That was highly unusual. Creek’s eyes met mine, showing the same surprise.

“That’s awesome. You should make it for us sometime,” I said. Then I remembered, and my stomach sank. “I mean, whenever we get together. Since you won’t be here anymore to cook regularly.”

Jesus, that had come out as an actual whine. I really needed to get a grip on myself.

“I’m sorry,” Bean said softly. “I know this is hard for you.”

How could something be irritating yet heartwarming at the same time? I loved that they were worried about me and it meant the world to me, but at the same time, it annoyed the fuck out of me that they felt they had to. As if I were fragile. Vulnerable. As if I needed…

As if I needed help.

But I did need help, didn’t I? I couldn’t do this alone. I needed to lean on others, as I’d been told repeatedly. That included Creek and Bean, which meant that…

Fuuuuuuck.

I took a deep breath, putting my plate on the coffee table. “It is hard for me. It’s not even about missing you guys, though you know I will. But I feel like I’m losing my home, the one place where I could be myself. I’m so happy for you both and want you to live your lives, but I don’t know what to do, how to feel at home anywhere anymore. I guess that…” My voice cracked, but I pushed through it. “I thought this house was my home, but it wasn’t. It was you. Nash and you two. You were my home, and now that’s gone.”

My throat was so tight I could barely swallow. Fuck it, I couldn’t do this. I was about to lose it and didn’t want to do that to them. “Excuse me,” I said, getting up, but Creek’s iron grip around my wrist pulled me right back down.

“Don’t go,” Creek said, surprisingly gently compared to the strength with which he held me. “Please.”

“I can’t do this,” I said between clenched teeth. “I refuse to lose it in front of you guys.”

“Why?” Bean asked softly. “We want to be here for you.”

“Because it’ll only make you feel more guilty, and I don’t want to do that to you.”

Bean firmly shook his head. “You’re not responsible for our emotions or even our reactions. You have a right to be sad oreven angry. We know you’re not begrudging us our happiness. You can be happy for us while grieving at the same time.”

Damn, when had he gotten so wise? Nash had said almost the exact same thing. Maybe they had both learned more from him than I had realized.

“I also think you’re wrong,” Creek said, letting go of my wrist as if he knew I had given up on trying to escape this conversation.

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