Page 128 of Knot Baked Out For This
I save what's salvageable—most of it, thankfully, since apparently even Levi can't destroy food that was professionally cooked first. We end up with slightly crispy bacon, eggs that are miraculously intact, and pancakes that somehow survived the Levi Experience.
"Why did you order breakfast?" I ask, settling at my tiny table with a plate that actually looks edible.
"You're taking a day off." He says it like it's momentous, which I guess it is. "Wanted to make it special."
"By almost burning down my apartment?"
"By trying to give you a morning where you don't have to cook." His expression goes soft, those green-gold eyes warm. "When's the last time someone else made you breakfast?"
When's the last time?—
I have to think about it.Really think.And the answer makes my chest tight.
"I don't actually remember."
"Even in the city? With..." He doesn't say Korrin's name, but it hangs between us anyway.
I laugh, but it's bitter. "I worked like a slave in Korrin's pack."
Levi's fork pauses halfway to his mouth.
"I was always doing something," I continue, focusing on cutting my pancakes into perfectly even pieces. "Rain or shine, sick or healthy, I had to make sure they were fed, their clothes were washed…even though they never wore what I washed and they'd throw out my food anyway."
The silence is sudden and complete.
"They'd what?" Levi's voice has gone very quiet.
"Throw out my food." I keep my eyes on my plate. "I'd cook breakfast, lunch, dinner when I knew they were home. It always went straight to the trash."
"For how long?"
"Three years."
"Three. Years." He sets down his fork with careful precision. "You cooked for them for three years and they threw it away?"
"Every time." I try to smile, make it lighter. "I kept doing it because, well, stopping would make me a bad, rebellious omega, right? That's what I was taught."
"Taught by who?"
"My parents." The words taste like ash. "Really controlling, always said my purpose was to please my Alphas no matter what. So I assumed it was just...testing. You know, a few months of proving myself. But months became years and?—"
My voice cracks slightly.
I clear my throat, force brightness.
"That's why the bakery makes me so happy. People actually eat what I make. They enjoy it, taste the love I put in. After years of cooking into the void, having someone buy a cookie and smile? It's everything."
I stand, gathering plates. "Baking lets me escape the noise. I don't have to perform, don't have to be the skinniest or prettiest. I just get lost in recipes and flavors, and people who love food will enjoy it every time. No judgment, just?—"
Arms wrap around me from behind, warm and solid and smelling of honey butter and barely contained rage.
I turn my head, and Levi's right there, eyes open and boring into mine with an intensity that makes my breath catch. He kisses me—not sweet, not gentle, but firm and claiming and full of something that feels like a promise.
When he pulls back, his voice is rough. "Having an omega like you make a single thing is a privilege. I'm sorry you were in a toxic hellhole that didn't value your worth, but you'll never—never—experience that with us."
Don't cry. Don't you dare cry over breakfast and basic human decency.
But my eyes are burning, and the relief of telling someone, of having them be properly angry on my behalf instead of telling me I should have tried harder—it's overwhelming.
