Page 117 of Resurrection
Stay this time. Stay.
After I’ve gotten enough of his heat, I get out of bed, put on my panties and a shirt, and shuffle into the kitchen. It's still early, the world hushed and relaxed, but I’ve been an early riser all my life.
Coffee, I think to myself, pulling out two matching mugs from the cabinet.
Questions keep filling my mind as I set up the coffeemaker and prepare an omelet.
What am I doing? What are we doing? I should be terrified. I should be a thousand miles away by now. I should. But I'm here, trying not to burn breakfast and hoping I'm not making another mistake.
The scent of coffee swirls, toasty and familiar, and I catch myself on the thought that I can't stop smiling.
Maybe, I think, pulling the spatula through eggs that are supposed to be scrambled but look more like a science experiment.Maybe it can work.
I shake my head and laugh under my breath. Just me and a fridge full of condiments because I hardly ever cook at home. I hardly spend time here. Oasis is where I’m the happiest.
The banging on my front door is insistent, urgent. I freeze, spatula in hand. My gaze darts to the wall clock first, then to my bedroom. It's early, the sun a slow-pouring syrup of light. Who the hell could it be at this hour?
My stomach twists, my nerves alive and kicking. I make a quick detour to the bedroom, peeking in to make sure Ty's still there. He is. The door clicks shut behind me, a secret kept for now.
I jog back, fumbling with the lock. One glance outside through the window, and my heart sinks. Adri’s cruiser is in my driveway, parked behind my Subaru.
Crap.
I pull the door open and position myself on the threshold. "This better be life or death, Adri."
"Good morning to you too, sis."
"What are you doing here? Any news about Asher?"
Of course, stubborn as a cactus, he’s planted right outside my door like he belongs there. He’s in his sheriff’s uniform, all official and smug, one foot tapping on the porch with exaggerated impatience. "Was passing by. And no, no news."
"Maybe we should put out an APB on his parents," I suggest.
"My hands are tied here. They technically haven’t done anything wrong."
"Yet… Whatever. After work, I’ll just stop by their place myself."
"Stay out of it."
I choose not to discuss this topic anymore. Adri will just try to prevent me from going to the trailer park. Instead, I scan his face, searching for signs of a hangover, but he looks surprisingly clear-minded. "Since when do you just pass by anyway?" I ask.
"Mom asked me to check with you to see if you have any recent photos of Dad for his memorial service," Adri grunts out, his eyes on the ground for a second. "She can’t find the blue photo book."
I nod. "It was in the basement with the other ones."
"It’s not there."
"Okay. I’ll take a look in my attic. Maybe I grabbed it by mistake."
"You making coffee?" My brother’s eyes dart over my shoulder and into my living room. "Got extra?"
"No," I say, blocking the entrance with one hand on the doorframe, the other still clutching the spatula. "It’s a single-serving morning today."
"You’re not gonna let me in?"
"No," I say, firm. I match his gaze, daring him to argue. "I really do need to leave soon. I’ll look for the photo book." I try to sound busy and innocent and not at all like someone with a naked man sleeping in her bedroom. "I have a restaurant to manage."
"Right," he says, his skepticism a solid weight.
