Page 83 of From the Wreckage
I move to the kitchen, sitting at his table, the blanket wrapped around me, watching him work.
By the time he sets a plate in front of me—chocolate chip pancakes stacked high and maple bacon crisped perfectly—I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. This isn’t just breakfast. It’s proof of everything he can’t bring himself to say out loud.
He loves me.
And I love him so desperately, I’m ruined for anyone else.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Everett mutters, sliding into the chair across from me. “Eat before it gets cold.”
I spear a bite of pancake, still staring at him. “You know chocolate chips are the fastest way to my heart, right?”
He smirks, leaning back in his chair. “Fastest? Angel, I already own your heart.”
My breath catches, but I try not to show it. Instead, I roll my eyes, tossing a chocolate chip at him. It bounces off his chest and lands in his lap.
He shakes his head, grinning. “Real mature.”
“Maybe I just wanted to feed you.”
His gaze darkens, amused and hungry all at once. “Careful, or I’ll return the favor.”
Heat curls low in my belly, but I laugh anyway, covering it with another bite of pancake. “You’re impossible.”
“Mmm.” He bites into a strip of bacon, eyes never leaving mine. “And you love it.”
I can’t argue with that.
I wouldn’t even try.
After we finish, he clears the dishes while I return to the couch. My stomach is full, my heart fuller. For the first time in a long time, the world feels quiet and safe.
Wrapped in his blanket, the taste of chocolate still on my tongue, I let myself believe that maybe, just maybe, this could last.
CHAPTER 58
Everett
Bri lookslike she belongs here.
She’s curled on my couch, wrapped in one of my blankets, her hair still damp from the shower. The TV plays some mindless rerun, but she’s not watching it. She’s tucked in like this is her place, her life.
Like she’s mine.
And for one dizzy, dangerous moment, I let myself believe it.
The ache in my chest eases as I lean against the counter, coffee mug warm in my hands. I let my eyes trace her, memorize her, brand her into me. Since I moved here, this cabin’s been nothing but wood and silence. Because she’s here, it feels like home.
I don’t even realize I’m smiling until my phone buzzes on the counter.
I glance at the screen, and the bottom drops out of my stomach.
Grayson: Everything okay? Bri’s good? Haven’t seen Joey lurking around, have you?
My throat goes dry.
I stare at the message too long, my grip tightening on the phone until the case creaks. Guilt surges hot and sharp, cutting through the fragile peace like a knife.
She’s ten feet away, wrapped in my blanket, smelling like my body wash. Her eyes soften every time they flick toward me. And her father is checking in—trusting me to look out for her. To protect her.
