Page 15 of Knot Falling in Love
He usually picks his meals up at the diner when he isn’t bouncing between Hannah’s and his parents.
“Okay, what do you need me to do?” I askas I walk into the kitchen, pulling my hair up into a ponytail.
Elijah glances up from the stove, doing a double take as his gaze rakes down my body like I’m wearing something much more scandalous than a well-loved oversized Stevie Nicks concert t-shirt and black bike shorts.
At least I’m wearing a bra this time.
“Nothing,” he says, smiling to himself and continuing to prep the meat.
He’s got everything set out and ready to go, from the two New York strips, the tiny golden potatoes already sliced in half, seasoned and ready to go into the air fryer, to the open bottle of red wine beside two highball glasses.
“Let me take care of the potatoes, at least. I know men are territorial with their meat, can’t imagine a wolf shifter would be any different.” I walk further into the kitchen.
He shoots me a glare and turns, lifting me by the waist and setting me on the edge of the center island. “Stay,” He shakes his finger, then turns and pours a glass of red zinfandel, placing it in my hand.
“This doesn’t seem right.”
Still, I take a sip of the wine, watching asElijah washes his hands and goes back to prepping the steak.
“Haven’t you had anyone cook for you before?” He asks over his shoulder.
I hesitate, cycling through most of my relationships. College consisted of instant ramen and midnight fast-food runs, nothing romantic about that. Things only got a little more upscale when I started dating Max, we were both doing pretty well, so we ate out a lot.
“Is that a no?” He pauses, that smile returning, “Am I the only man who has ever cooked for you other than your father?”
“Don’t put it that way. I’m having flashbacks to 15-year-old Elijah in 38-year-old Elijah’s body making experimental s’mores in the microwave.” I cringe, taking another sip of wine.
“Can’t say that was my finest hour.” He shakes his head as he pan-sears the meat, “What? Not even Max?” There’s a teasing quality in his voice that feels like jealousy.
Max was, how do I put this, privileged. He had a full-ride in college and got a leg up from doing content for his mother’s business that gave him his first 20kfollowers. I don’t remember him doing his own laundry once when we were together, he’d usually send it out.
I hide my smile behind my highball glass then clear my throat, “No, he was too busy boinking my friend while I was attending conferences. He told me it was because I was working too much. Joke’s on him since I was let go just a few months later.”
Shit. Note to self, slow down on the red wine.
“Magpie, I’m sorry.” Elijah’s tone digs into my chest.
“I’m not,” I shrug trying to avoid eye contact, “I realized we were more representing a brand than having an actual relationship. All those carefully curated social media moments held no memories. It’s just static.”
“Is that why you stopped posting?”
I look up, “You’ve been following my Instagram?”
“What?” Elijah turns, the tips of his ears going pink. “No, not in a stalker way. You tagged Hannah and Alexis in a lot of photos when you were home. They don’t post a lot, so it was nice to see them when I was overseas.”
When you were home.That’s exactly how it feels right now. All these years, I’ve just been away from home. Nothing has come close to this. Maybe there is some odd gravitational pull from The Wonder Hole, or maybe my compass has always pointed directly towards Elijah.
“I can’t believe I let life keep me away for so long. Four years.”
“Ghostlight Falls will always be here for you.” He smiles, setting the pan-seared steaks aside.
I want to believe he means he will always wait for me, but I could never hope. No, I could never ask for that, and even imagining it feels like I’m flying a little too close to the sun.
“So, speaking of. When did Alexis’ whole frog hyper-fixation start? Last time I checked, she wanted to be a lawyer.”
“I’m pretty sure it started with taking care of the class frog, then she went to the Great Basin Spadefoot Museum and saw a movie on local preservation efforts. The next weekend she picked up Jeremiah from Ruff ’n Tumble. Jacob and I spent a weekend helping her build his terrarium, you should see it. The frog lives better than I do.” He slides the cookingsheet with the two steaks into the oven and sets the timer.
I glance out into the dining room at the plastic totes still stacked against the wall, biting my tongue.
