We both stood there. The city hummed outside, and the eggs hissed in the butter.
Claire’s fingers skimmed the edge of the counter. My free hand stayed braced on the granite, knuckles pale. A muscle twitched in my jaw as I kept the spatula moving.
She looked at me, then down at the pan, then back again.
I cleared my throat, barely.
She stepped back half a step, her hands still on the counter. I stepped away from the stove and turned to face her fully, palms braced on the counter. My mouth felt dry.
Her eyes held mine.
I let out a soft exhale.
I should probably say something. She’d wave it off, I know. But still... she didn’t deserve the way I shut her out
"I'm sorry, Claire."
Claire gave me a small smile "Liam, “It’s okay,” she said softly. “You’ve got a lot going on.”
She reached for her mug, “What is her name?"
My shoulders dropped a bit, and I stood up a little straighter, "Maeve. She is my younger sister. But the way she acts, you would think she was my mother."
Claire laughed at that. "My brother would say the same thing."
I looked away, toward the far corner of the kitchen. I could get used to that laugh.
“She’s constantly checking in. Making sure I eat. That I get my flu shot. That I schedule a physical once a year.”
I pressed my hand flat to the countertop, then curled my fingers into a fist.
I just can’t lose her, too.
“Do you want me to get plates?" Claire’s voice cut clean through the tangle in my head. I blinked, realizing I'd been staring past her, right through the wall.
She was watching me, two forks already in her hand, waiting for an answer.
I nodded and stepped aside. “Top shelf.”
“Cabinet by the sink,” she finished for me, already brushing past to reach it. Her hand skimmed my arm for balance as she rose onto her toes. Her hand barely touched me, but I felt it everywhere.
She didn’t move away right after grabbing the plates. Just stood beside me, holding both plates in one hand, her shoulder nearly brushing mine.
I kept stirring the eggs, but I could feel her there, warmth at my side, soft breaths at my shoulder. The stove threw heat in frontof me, but Claire brought a different kind of heat. The kind that made my pulse tick up and my skin tighten.
She just stood there. Unaware that my heart was trying to punch its way out of my chest.
I reached for the spatula and plated the eggs slowly. She was watching the pan, head tilted, eyes narrowed slightly in concentration. My eyes caught on the curve of her neck, the tiny pearl earring glinting in the morning light.
My hand brushed hers by accident, and the jolt that followed was instant.
"Is that enough?" I asked, trying to regain my composure.
"Liam, that's enough for this morning and tomorrow morning."
"Sorry," I laughed. "I keep forgetting you're not a six-foot-3three-inch professional hockey player who eats 5000 calories a day."
She walked to the counter. "Thanks for noticing."
