Goodness. I shake the thought from my mind. This is a temporary arrangement, nothing more. Why would I stock up on food or decorate?
Just as I’m adding the final pancake to the stack, Hayden shuffles in, one hand pressed to his mouth, yawning. When he notices me, he freezes.
His black sweatpants hang low on his hips, and the damn man is shirtless again. His neck, his chest, and his arms are covered in tattoos, but they’re no substitute for a T-shirt. No, they’re temptations. It’snearly impossible not to study them. His bleached hair is a mess, sticking out in every direction, as if he tossed and turned all night.
Only after I’ve looked at him for way too long do I realize he’s cataloging me in a similar way. My cheeks heat as he takes in my messy bun, my loose black tee, and my black sleep shorts. When his eyes drop to my legs, he stiffens and forces his focus back to my face, like he finally realizes what he’s doing.
“Good morning.” I keep my tone light, pretending I didn’t just catch him checking me out. “I didn’t think you’d be up so early.”
He scratches the back of his neck. “You really think I could sleep when the place smells this good?”
He moves closer, though he stops again abruptly. It’s strange to see him so out of his element, but I’m enjoying it.
“Don’t just stand here,” I say. “Sit down.”
“Thanks.” He drops onto a barstool and sighs, resting his elbows on the counter.
I plate four pancakes and set them in front of him. “I couldn’t find syrup or even Nutella, so we’ll have to make do with cherry jam.”
“I have cherry jam?” he asks, eyebrows raised.
“Um, yeah.” I pluck the jar off the counter near the stove. “Want some? And how about coffee?”
For a moment, he studies me, his expression thoughtful and maybe a little confused. “That’d be great. Thank you so much, Ry.”
I sit across from him while we eat, the two of us only speaking here and there. Mostly, he muses about how delicious the pancakes are. Each time, traitorous butterflies come to life in my stomach. It’s not the first time we’ve eaten together—I bring food from time to time when I check on him, worried he isn’t eating—but it’s the first time we’ve dined together, just the two of us, out of choice rather than necessity.
Between bites, he asks, “What’s your plan today?”
“My first class is at eleven.” I take a sip of my coffee. “And I think I found a company to do a deep smoke-removal treatment at my place, so I’m meeting with them after work.”
“Good. And remember—you can stay here for as long as you need.”
“Thank you. I’ll ask about a timeline. Hopefully, I can move back in before I go to Cali.”
“You’re going home?”
“Yup.” Before I can think the suggestion through, I say, “Why don’t you come with me? I’m sure your parents would love to see you. Piper and Hunter too. And you know how much Story and Hudsonlovetheir Uncle Hayden.”
He shakes his head and looks away. “No. Not now. They will see right through me, and I don’t want to worry them any more than I already have. I need some more time.”
Frustration and disappointment battle for dominance inside me. Being home, surrounded by the people who love him, could be healing. Their support might be what he needs to work through his grief.
As much as I want to tell him that, I know better. He won’t listen to me.
“I get it.” I nod. “At least that means I’ll get more time with the kids.”
“They’ll be just as happy to see you.” His eyes soften. “Story says you’re her role model. She wants to be just like her Aunt Riley.”
“She’ll be so much better than me. She’s so determined and disciplined.”
He leans forward. “What made you quit ballet?”
That simple question makes my hands go clammy, my heart ready to jump out of my chest. “It’s a long story.”
“I have time.”
Nastya is the only person I’ve opened up to about my reasons, and even she doesn’t know everything. I’d prefer to keep it that way.
