I shake my head, watching her as she moves slowly into the kitchen. “No coffee maker. Just instant and a kettle.”
Her deep blue eyes find mine. “That’ll do.”
I go to the pantry as she refills the electric kettle, and I pull out the tin of coffee I keep just in case. It’s not something I prefer, but I keep it for sister-shaped emergencies.
Our fingers brush when I hand her the tin, and for a moment, it feels like electricity sparks when we touch. It makes me shiver and pull away, but my heart…my heart doesn’t want logic.
For a moment, all I can think about is seeing her like I did yesterday and feeling all of her. Not just her hands. Not with clothes between us.
Quickly, I shake myself of those thoughts and take a step back, putting distance between us. Cassidy clears her throat and turns away, but before she can hide it, I catch a flush darkening her cheeks.
“Thanks,” she mutters, grabbing a mug from the top shelf. “I ran out of my own yesterday. I was going to go into town, replace what we’d used, get some of our own stuff…”
“But you never got the chance,” I finish.
Cassidy shakes her head as she heaps two spoons of instant into her mug, then adds a heaping of sugar. “No. Unfortunately not. Otherwise, I’d be drinking this with vanilla.”
“Unfortunately, that’s not something I can summon up from my stash,” I half joke.
When she looks over her shoulder and smiles, it’s like another nail in the coffin that is my resolve. It continues to crack, to shift. And I don’t know what it is about Cassidy, but she has a power over me I can’t ignore.
The sound of footsteps has me backing into the fridge, putting distance between us again. The twins come to a stop in the entry of the kitchen, first looking at their mom, then at me.
“Good morning, Mr. Caleb,” the boy, Arlo, says. His twin mutters something similar, though I can’t make it out with the way she hides her face shyly. “Mom, do we have any more cornflakes?”
Cassidy mutters a curse under her breath and turns to look at her children. “I’m sorry. I think we finished them yesterday.”
Both kids hide their disappointment well, which doesn’t sit right with me. I don’t blame Cassidy; it’s not like she purposefully put herself in this situation. She was lied to; she’s done everything she can to provide for her kids, and it sounds like her ex doesn’t help at all if what Winnie implied is true. The house they were all relying on isn’t anything more than a piece of land with the ruins of what might have been their home on top of it.
And anyway, cornflakes are a necessity in my house.
From the pantry, I pull out an unopened box and set it on the counter. “Go for it.”
Arlo’s eyes light up, and even Cleo looks surprised, but they don’t reach for the box.
When I look at Cassidy, her eyes are wet. “I can pay you back,” she says quietly, finding my stare. “But we’ve got other?—”
“Please. Don’t,” I say, getting the milk from the fridge. I keep a stock of long-life milk in the basement. “Go for it. It’s cereal. It won’t break my bank.”
I can tell she wants to say more, but not in front of the kids. Instead, she takes two of the bowls she’d washed up yesterday and sets them on the counter, completely forgetting her coffee.
“I’ve got the breakfast,” I tell her, putting myself between her and the island. “You make your coffee.”
Tears brim her dark eyes as they meet mine. “Caleb?—”
“Don’t worry. I’m making myself a bowl, too,” I reassure. “You want one?”
She gently shakes her head, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth. But she doesn’t fight me on it. Instead, she steps back, moving towards the boiled kettle, and resumes making her coffee hesitantly while I turn to the kids.
They both eye me warily. Arlo is a little more open with his scepticism, especially as he slides onto the stool. His sister, on the other hand, hides her emotions a little better. It makes me wonder why. My nieces and nephews are loud. My sisters are great parents, and I think I see a lot of them in Cassidy. But those kids?
They’re wild. It probably comes from living together in close proximity. The kids feed off each other’s energy, and that’s just a mess waiting to happen.
Cassidy obviously raised these two well, but what about their father? What role does he play in their lives? And is he the reason Cleo is so quiet, Arlo so protective?
I hate being curious about them. But I can’t help myself.
“What do you do for work, Mr. Caleb?” Arlo asks as I grab a third bowl and start pouring cereal into all three.
