Page 79 of Our Darkest Summer
I never thought I’d be the kind of person who spent time in the kitchen, but living alone through college and needing to keep up with an athlete’s diet meant picking up habits I never expected. Cooking became less of a chore and more of a system. Something I could control, like chess. Yet I was doing it less and less. So now it was a good time to sort out my thoughts.
The scent of butter and warm batter filled the kitchen, followed by the richer, sharper scent of grilled vegetables as they softened into the mix, before spreading through the quiet house. I flipped the omelet, watching the edges crisp, when I heard footsteps coming down the stairs.
“What are you making?” Kinsley’s sleepy voice came from behind me. I swallowed, cutting the omelet in half and gathering both pieces onto two plates.
“Omelet,” I answered, without turning around. “I thought you would be hungry.”
I heard her shift closer, her presence filling the room, her sweet scent curling into the air.
“You made it for me?”
“If you’re hungry. If not, I can eat it.” I smiled, finally turning to look at her.
Kinsley shook her head. “I’m not giving up the breakfast you made forme. It smells delicious.” With that, she grabbed one of the plates out of my hand, eyeing the pancakes. “Is Connor still asleep?”
I glared toward the stairs. “I think so.”
A smile tugged on her lips. “Well then, he won’t miss these.” She added two to her plate, then sat down at the kitchen island.
I took the seat beside her, resting my forearms against the counter as she picked up her fork. She took a bite, chewing thoughtfully, and for a moment, there was nothing but the soft clink of silverware against porcelain.
Then, she exhaled. “Oh, God. This is good. No, more than good… heavenly.”
A quiet laugh left me as I cut into my omelet, but my pulse was thudding harder than it should.She liked it.
We ate in silence for a few minutes. It wasn’t the heavy kind; it was comfortable, easy. Like we were back in our school’s library.
She nudged my plate with the edge of her fork. “You’re eating like you’re analyzing a chessboard. Didn’t they teach you not to play with your food?”
I huffed, but she wasn’t wrong. I’d assumed she’d be the one too anxious to eat—turned out it was me.
“Thanks for making this,” she murmured, running her finger along the rim of her plate.
I took another bite, swallowing hard. “Figured we could use a normal morning.”
Her gaze burned into the side of my face, pulling my attention before I could stop myself. Her hair was still messy from sleep, her cheeks flushed from the warmth of my hoodie. She let out a breath, something shifting in her expression, her nose scrunching slightly.
I knew that look, the one she got when she wanted to say something but wasn’t sure if she should.
She twisted the string of my hoodie between her fingers. “I didn’t know you could cook.”
I raised a brow. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Sage.”
Her fork froze midair. She searched my face for a beat, then tilted her head.
“Well, I hope all your secrets are this delicious,” she said softly. “And you were right. We really could use more mornings like this.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Kinsley
Connor steppedonto the porch with a familiar box in his hands. The front door creaked shut behind him, the sound breaking through the quiet. Sunlight spilled across the wooden boards, warming the air, carrying the scent of pine and lake water.
I sat cross-legged on the pier with an iced coffee, except the ice had already melted in the heat, turning it into a watery slush. It was one of those rare moments where the world felt still, like if I didn’t move, time wouldn’t either.
Connor grinned at me, hurrying down the stairs, balancing his laptop on top of the box. “You planning on hiding out here all day?”
I shrugged, watching the ripples the breeze stirred on the lake. “Thinking about it.”
