Page 46 of The Hunter
“You can grab a coffee if you’d like one.” He gestured with his head toward a one-cup brewer on the opposite side of the kitchen.
“Thanks.” I walked toward the brewer and stared at it for a second longer than I probably should have.
“Mugs are right above your head,” he offered, cracking a few eggs into a second frying pan.
I opened the cupboard, found a plain white mug, and set it under the spout.
“Do you even know how to make your own coffee, or are you so used to being waited on that you can’t perform a basic task?”
“I’m not helpless, despite what you want to think of me. Icanbrew my own coffee.”
I placed a pod into the brewer, slamming down the lever harder than necessary. After hitting a few buttons, a low hum filled the kitchen as the coffee began to drip.
“See?” I faced him, crossing my arms in front of my stomach, a smirk drawn on my mouth.
“Color me impressed,” he retorted, his voice dry. More annoyed than anything.
I wanted to ask why he hated me so much, but why did I care if he liked me or not?
He was the bad guy in this equation. Not me.
Spinning around, I headed toward the refrigerator and grabbed the milk, pouring a bit into my coffee once it was done brewing.
“There’s sweetener on the island,” Henry offered.
My first instinct was to say no. Victor never let me use that stuff. Said it would make me bloated. Ugly. Undesirable.
“Thank you,” I said softly.
I found the container, chose one at random, and stirred it into my coffee. The first sip was perfect — hot, smooth, and just sweet enough.
“Nothing like that first sip of coffee in the morning, huh?” Henry said, watching me with an intensity I hadn’t been expecting.
In truth, I hadn’t expected for him to be watching me at all. He seemed hell bent on avoiding eye contact with me at all costs.
Not right now.
Now, it felt like he was peering straight through me. Through the walls. The lies. The shield I wore to protect myself.
“Something like that,” I offered shakily.
He continued to study me for an unnervingly long time.
Then he looked away. “Food’s almost ready.”
“Need help with anything?”
“Nope.”
I climbed onto one of the stools at the island, wrapping my hands around the mug, savoring the nutty flavor of the strong coffee without feeling like I was being watched.
Granted, Henrywaskeeping an eye on me, but it wasn’t like it was with Victor. Like he was scrutinizing every single thing I did, filing it away to use against me at a later time.
A few minutes later, Henry set a plate in front of me. Eggs. Bacon. Toast. All things I hadn’t been allowed to eat in years.
It was just food. Just breakfast. But by the way I stared at it, you’d think I was handed the nuclear codes or the secret to eternal life.
“Sorry if it’s not the typical breakfast you eat,” Henry snipped out, much like he did last night.
