Page 14 of Diesel
“I figured,” she said with a small smile, then turned and led the way inside.
Her apartment was warm and smelled faintly of cinnamon and something floral.It smelled like her, he realized.Diesel stepped inside.
Sophie pointed at the couch.“Blankets are in that basket.There’s an extra pillow too.Bathroom’s down the hall if you need it.”
“Thanks.”He watched her, the soft curve of her cheek, the way she fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve.She looked tired.Vulnerable.Still recovering from earlier.
“Good night, Diesel,” she said.
He nodded.“Good night, Sophie.”
She hesitated a second longer, then disappeared down the hall.Diesel stared at the couch, blanket in hand, but it took a long time for his muscles to unclench.
He didn’t sleep, not really.But he dozed, light and alert, trained ears tuned for any noise out of place.When morning finally bled into the room with soft light, he blinked awake to the distant clatter of pans.
He sat up fast, heart thudding.Diesel then smelled coffee and something else.Eggs?Toast?Diesel stood, stiff from the night, and followed the sound into the kitchen.Sophie stood at the stove in that same oversized sweatshirt, hair tied up this time, flipping something in a pan.
She glanced over her shoulder and smiled.“Morning.I didn’t want to wake you,” she said.
“You didn’t,” he assured her.
“I figured you’d be up early anyway.”She reached for a plate, sliding the eggs onto it.“Hope you’re hungry.”
Diesel didn’t answer right away.He wasn’t used to this.To waking up to warmth and breakfast and someone thinking about him in the morning.Hell, he barely knew what to do with it.
“You didn’t have to,” he said finally.
“I know.”She handed him the plate.“But I wanted to.”
He took it, fingers brushing hers.A spark shot up his arm.Sophie didn’t pull away, and for a moment, they just stood there.
The silence stretched.
Diesel cleared his throat and stepped back.“Smells good.”
She grinned.“Sit.Eat.I’m making coffee now.”
He obeyed.The couch creaked under him as he dug into the eggs.They were simple, but perfect.She moved around the kitchen, humming under her breath, and he found himself watching her more than eating.
She was soft in a way the world didn’t often allow.Gentle.But there was steel under it too.He’d seen it when she’d stood tall after the vandalism.When she’d faced down that asshole yesterday, even with fear in her eyes.
She also made him breakfast.Just because.He didn’t know what the hell to do with that.When she finally sat down across from him with her own coffee, she gave him a long look.
“What?”he asked.
“I was just wondering about your tattoos,” she said.
Diesel looked down.His arms were mostly covered by his black shirt, but the ink peeked from his collar, coiling over one side of his neck and creeping up toward his jaw.
“What about them?”he asked.
“They all seem ...deliberate.”Her eyes were curious, not judging.“Like they mean something.”
“They do,” he said, then hesitated.“Most of ’em, anyway.”
She sipped her coffee.“Can I ask about one?”
His jaw tightened, but he didn’t shut her down.Instead, he reached for the collar of his shirt and tugged it down just a bit, revealing a stylized raven over his heart.
