I wake up before she does. It’s early, the sky still dark and the world hushed, and yet I’m wide awake. The quiet of the house feels too heavy, like I’m waiting for something to happen, waiting for everything to settle into place. But even as I lie on the couch, staring at the ceiling, I can’t stop the questions that are buzzing in my head. What am I doing here? What arewedoing here?
I’m happy, sure. But there’s a tightness in my chest, a restless tension that just won’t ease. It’s been years since we’ve been this close, and things between us have never been simple. That’salways been the thing with Kenna. She gets under my skin, stirs up feelings I’ve never been able to control. I’m not sure what this is, whatever’s happening between us right now, but I know one thing. I don’t want to ruin it.
Not when she finally let me back in. Not when she let me see the cracks in the armor.
The anxiety gnaws at me for a few minutes, but then I decide to cook. That’s something. It’s a way to show her I’m here.
I head into the kitchen and start digging through the fridge, pulling out whatever I need. I’m making her favorite breakfast—salmon and cream cheese on a bagel. It’s her go-to, and luckily she’s got everything here. I even decide to try something extra. I make chocolate milk, the way she used to make it for me. If I can get it right, maybe it’ll show her I still remember.
I stir the chocolate syrup into the milk, trying to make it just like she used to. But when I take a sip, it’s not the same. Something’s off. Not quite as good as hers. I don’t know if I messed up the proportions or just didn’t mix it right, but it’s just...wrong. I shake my head and laugh under my breath, already knowing she’s gonna call me out on it.
Still, I pour it into her favorite mug. The one with the little crack near the handle, and place it gently on the table beside her plate.
Finally, Kenna comes into the kitchen, still a little groggy but clearly awake, her eyes blinking against the morning light. When she sees me, I can tell she’s surprised to find me here.
“You stayed,” she says quietly, her voice still rough from sleep.
It’s soft, almost uncertain. Like she didn’t really believe I would.
“Yeah,” I say, giving her a small smile. “Wasn’t gonna leave you alone. Figured you might need someone around.”
Her eyes linger on me for a second, and something shifts in her face. There’s gratitude there, but also something more. Something raw.
“Thank you. Really,” she says. “I needed you last night.” Hervoice wavers just a little. “I miss you, Cole. More than you probably realize. And having you here again…it’s messing with my head. I love you. I always have. But I’m scared. Letting you in again. It’s not easy.”
Hearing her say it hits me hard. My chest tightens. It’s one thing to think she still cares, but to hear it out loud…it’s different. And yeah, I get it. I’m the reason for that fear. I put that there.
“I know,” I say, keeping my voice low. “And I’m not asking for anything big right now. We’ll go slow. Like you said, we can start with just being friends. No pressure. Just…spend time together. See where it goes.”
She nods, and for a second, she doesn’t say anything. Then that familiar smile pulls at her lips—the one I’ve missed more than I can explain.
“Well,” she says, her tone playful but warm, “I don’t work today. Wanna spend the day with me, Cap?”
The nickname hits me like a punch to the gut.Cap. She used to call me that back in high school. A nickname just for us. Hearing it now feels like opening a door I thought had been locked forever.
I can’t help but smile. “I wouldn’t want to spend my day any other way, Sunshine.”
We end up at the kitchen table, breakfast half-eaten, coffee in hand. The light through the blinds paints the room in gold. She’s across from me, quiet, sipping from her mug, and I keep sneaking glances like I’m checking to make sure this is real.
She’s twirling a piece of hair between her fingers, her eyes a little distant. Still thinking about everything, I guess. But she looks peaceful. And damn, she’s beautiful in the morning. Soft, real, like life hasn’t gotten to her yet today.
“The bagels turned out alright,” I say, trying to break the silence. “Still not sure about the chocolate milk though.”
She looks up, one brow raised, fighting a smile. “It was decent,” she says. “Definitely not like mine, but I’ll give you points fortrying.”
I chuckle. “I’m gonna need a lesson. We should start a petition to get your recipe honored for national treasure status.”
She laughs, and it’s that full, easy laugh I haven’t heard in years. The sound fills the kitchen, and for a second, everything feels simple.
Then she sets her mug down and looks at me, her smile fading a bit. “I’ve missed this,” she says quietly. “Just…being with you.”
I nod, swallowing past the lump in my throat. “Me too. A lot.”
We fall into a quiet that doesn’t feel heavy for once. It’s comfortable. Like we don’t need to fill the space with words. Just being here feels like enough.
When we finish breakfast, I get up to clear the plates, and she moves to help. She’s already talking about what we should do today, tossing out casual ideas, but I’ve already got something in mind. Something simple. Something that feels like us.
After we finish cleaning up, she grabs her purse and jacket, slipping into her shoes while I lean against the counter, watching her. I don’t mean to stare, but I do. She moves with a quiet confidence I’ve always admired.
