Page 111 of When the Storm Breaks
But his reply doesn’t come right away.
Doubt creeps in, tugging at the edges of my excitement. Maybe this is too much. Too soon. Maybe he wouldn’t even want me to cook for him.
It was supposed to be a thoughtful gesture, but now all I can think about is whether I’m overstepping.
Then my phone vibrates.
Haiyden: Just got home. Come over, pretty girl.
Within minutes, I’m out the door, tote bag from the local gift shop slung over my shoulder, filled with ingredients for tonight’s dinner.
Thirty minutes later, I’m knocking gently at Haiyden’s door, nerves still clinging to the edges of my confidence. But the second it swings open and his lips crash into mine, every doubt disappears.
He pulls me inside without breaking the kiss, backing me up against the wall—a perfect mirror of the night he brought me home.
The bag slips from my shoulder, landing with a heavy thud. My arms wrap around him instinctively, fingers gripping at his shirt, already lost in the way he feels, the way he—
“God, you two are gross.”
Chase’s voice, though playful, douses the moment like a bucket of ice water.
I tear myself away from Haiyden, whipping around to see Chase standing in the middle of the living room, arms crossed, shaking with laughter.
“Maybe warn a guy,” he adds, smirking. “I almost walked in blind.”
I clear my throat, fighting the heat creeping up my neck. “Sorry, Chase,” I mutter, glancing at Haiyden before shifting my gaze back to him. “I didn’t know you were home.”
Haiyden’s lips twist with amusement, a shrug rolling off his shoulders, while Chase throws up his hands in exaggerated innocence.
“I’m out of here soon anyway, so you two can finish”—he waves his hands in a vague, swirling motion—”whatever that was, in like… five minutes.”
Haiyden exhales a quiet laugh, rubbing his jaw. “Generous.”
Chase grins. “Yeah, well, I try to be a good friend. Apparently a pretty good wingman too.”
I blow out a long breath, letting sarcasm lace my words. “Anyway,” I say, scooping the bag off the floor. “I’m cooking tonight.”
I press the bag into Haiyden’s arms and head for the kitchen, glancing over my shoulder. “You saved my life, what, twice now?Feels like you probably deserve it.”
My tone is light, teasing. But the memories come in flashes—
Haiyden wrapping me in his coat.
Cooking me breakfast.
Making sure I was okay.
I don’t let people take care of me. I handle my own shit. But with him, it feels… natural.
At first, he hesitates, like he doesn’t know how to respond. Something unreadable crosses his face, and my heart sinks. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe I’m pushing too much—making this into something it shouldn’t be.
But then he exhales, shifting his weight.
“Calla, you really didn’t have to do this.”
His voice is quieter now, like he’s not used to this—someone doing something forhim.
He turns to the bag, starts unpacking it, setting the ingredients on the counter with careful hands.
