Everyone looks at me, but I pretend not to see as I head for the open doorway.
“I didn’t mean you,” Fake Rip says.
“I’m hungry, and I want to help,” I call over my shoulder.
“Auren...” Slade begins, but I sidestep him before he can reach for me.
As soon as I pass into the kitchen, I hear quiet murmurings behind me, but I ignore them and instead look around the space. It’s just as homey as the living room, except instead of wood paneling, smooth white walls make up three sides, and then the fourth is made up of the same brick as the fireplace. It’s here at the brick wall that an iron stove sits, its grate glowing slightly from embers within and a stovetop just above it. There’s a round black table with curved benches tucked beneath it off to the right, and the rest of the walls have hanging shelves along their length stuffed full of cookware, with wooden countertops just below.
After a few more seconds, I hear footsteps, and I turn as Slade’s brother comes inside. He heads for a small door just past the dining table, which I’m guessing is the pantry, where he sets down the crate. I hear him rummaging around before he reappears a few seconds later.
We stand facing each other awkwardly before he says, “I guess I never got the chance to properly introduce myself. I’m Ryatt. Nice to formally meet you.” He reaches up to scratch the back of his head full of black hair. It’s the same as Slade’s.
“You two really do look alike,” I blurt out.
He snorts. “Yeah, I’ve heard that a time or two.”
I think there might be an edge of bitterness to his reply, but I don’t know him well enough to be certain.
“I’ll just get to work on making dinner,” I say before I move toward the pantry. It’s bigger than I thought, with cabinets against the bottom and shelves lining above them. There are all kinds of ingredients stuffed in bottles and sacks, and what looks to be strips of jerky hanging on a drying rack.
I circle the room, trying to come up with an idea for something I could make. But then I remember that I don’t actually know how to make anything.
“Dammit,” I murmur under my breath. I was in such a hurry to escape conversation that I didn’t really think about the follow-through. But how hard could it be?
Squinting at the labels on the different containers, I finally find rice and dried peas, along with some eggs. That’s a good meal, right?
Right.
I grab the ingredients and head out, but when I eye a bottle of wine on the cabinet just in front of the door, I swipe that too.
I’m going to need it.
Once I come back into the kitchen, Ryatt is gone, and I let out a breath of relief that I can just have a moment alone. A moment where I don’t have to pretend, don’t have to talk.
Placing everything on the counter, I eye the spices on the shelves above, but none of them are labeled, and I don’t recognize a single one.
“Want some help?”
I flinch at Judd’s voice, pasting a smile back on my face before I turn around. “No, thank you. I’ve got it.”
His hazel eyes watch me for a moment before he nods and ducks back out of the room. More murmurings erupt in the living room, and I can hear Slade’s rumbling tone cutting through right before Lu’s softer voice says, “Just give her some time.”
Yes. Time. That’s exactly what I need. The more time I can have, the better.
I spend the next hour running around the kitchen, trying to make something edible.
It’s not going well.
Bright side though, the wine is fantastic. Not only does it taste great, but it’s taking off the edge. And when I’m nothing but edges and sharp points, where one stray thought is all it would take to make me ram against one and burst, I could use a little dulling.
By the time I plop bowls down onto the table, the kitchen is filled with steam and smoke, and I’m a little drunk.
It’s lovely.
“Dinner’s ready!” I shout.
Everyone comes in. Quickly. As if they were all standing just outside the doorway. Everyone takes a seat except for Slade, who pulls out one of the benches for two and waits for me to sit.
