“Sheesh, everyone’s a critic,” I muttered as I placed my pretzel into the bath of baking-soda water. Adding a quick brush of melted butter and a generous sprinkling of sea salt, I then placed it on the parchment-lined tray.
One after another, we continued the assembly line.
“Alright,” Oliver said, slipping the tray into the oven and closing the door. “Timer’s set.”
Ten minutes later, with the kitchen restored to spotless order, floor swept, countertops gleaming, dishes drying, the pretzels came out.
“Look at these beauties,” I said. “And see, even my deformed pretzel turned out alright. Would you believe it? The little rebel pulled through.” Taking it from the tray, I inspected it. The twist veered off-center, the base leaned lopsided, but it had become a pretzel. “I knew it could do it. I had faith. Never doubt the underdog.”
Oliver chuckled beside me. “Well, the true test, as you declared, is in the tasting.”
“Let’s find out, then.” I tore the pretzel in half, revealing the pillowy interior. A plume of fragrant steam escaped from the center. I handed one half to Oliver, then took a bite of my own.
Salt hit first, followed by the richness of butter, and then came the bread itself. Soft, warm, with a hint of nutty flavor.
“As I foretold... delicious.” I took another bite. “Way to go, partner! Our first joint task as housemates is a resounding success. Here’s to many more.”
“I... yeah, I had fun. Thank you for this. I can’t remember the last time I felt this at ease. Even when things were good with Vincent, in the back of my mind I always braced for the moment it reverted back. I think that’s why I held onto the good moments so tightly, because inevitably they would end. He always ended them.”
“I accept your gratitude, but I also need you to hear this. You shouldn’t have to thank anyone for making you feel safe. That’s the basement, not the ceiling of what you deserve. It’s the foundation every relationship should be built on. I’m sorry that hasn’t been your experience.”
Chapter 8
Oliver
After our pretzel-making session, I napped for most of the day. Though “napped” might have been too generous a word. It resembled more a retreat into unconsciousness. The bruises bloomed into their peak mottled agony, new aches cropping up in every muscle group, on every area of my body.
When I surfaced, still groggy, the day had turned into evening. I blinked at the ceiling, turning my head to find Luke in the cushioned rocker, his legs stretched out in front of him, laptop balanced on his thighs, brow furrowed as his eyes tracked the screen, fully absorbed in whatever he was reading.
It struck me he had likely been there all day, keeping silent vigil while I slept.
Luke carried a gentleness and warmth unlike anything I had known, and he paid attention. He caught my restlessness, the way my mind demanded stimulation before it sank back into the horror of what had happened, and he offered me something to do.
While making pretzels, I’d felt more like myself than I had in years. That version of me, the one who was playful, unguarded, a bit snarky, had gone missing. Yet with Luke, I didn’t have to reach for it. I’d teased him without fear, laughed without flinching, spoke without scanning his face for signs of anger. I still couldn’t believe I’d started the flour fight. But Luke made itsafe to exist, and in doing so, coaxed dormant parts of me to the surface.
Despite his formidable size, his presence was neither imposing nor intrusive. Against all logic and every lesson trauma had drilled into me, despite knowing next to nothing about him, I found myself choosing to trust him.
As if he sensed my thoughts, he looked up and smiled, a little crooked, the left side lifting higher than the right. A dimple flickered at the corner of his mouth before vanishing. His eyes crinkled at the corners as the smile spread across his face.
Allowing myself to look at him, it occurred to me how good looking he was. His hair, so dark it contained blue undertones, sat in a long crew cut. Stubble dusted his square jaw. His nose, faintly misaligned, perhaps once broken, stood out just enough to make him human.
The dark cotton of his shirt stretched across the breadth of his torso, revealing the firm lines of muscle beneath and his sculpted shoulders. The sleeves strained around the girth of his biceps, showing the rounded swell of muscle, accentuated further by his tattoo sleeve.
My stomach had no reason to flutter, but it did anyway, trying to nest somewhere in my heart. I shouldn’t be seeing him like this, not now. Not after Vincent. Not after months, years of confusion, where love had been currency, affection had been twisted into a tool, and every kiss came with concealed manipulation. I had promised myself long ago if I ever got out from under Vincent’s thumb, I’d be smarter and more discretionary.
Despite my resolve, I catalogued Luke with an admiration that owed nothing to the safety he gave me and everything to longing.
Yeah, sure, Oliver, I thought bitterly.Go ahead. Become one more walking cliché while you’re at it. The shattered guy who falls for the man who rescues him. Real original. Real pathetic.
Shame and embarrassment filled my cheeks. I’d always hated that my pale complexion broadcast my thoughts like a neon sign. I only hoped the bruises might provide some camouflage. Severing the connection before it became a confession, I hung my head.
Okay, fine. I could admit it. Luke was, by any measurable standard, a smoke show. My trauma hadn’t made me blind, only wary. I was purely observing the aesthetics. I could admire the architecture without making plans to move in. I would be doing the world a disservice if I didn’t acknowledge how he looked. A man like Luke should draw the eye. It didn’t have to mean anything more.
The sound of my phone vibrating against the cushion beside me broke my reverie. I reached for it without thinking, thumbing the screen open. The name flashed across the notification.
Vincent.
The air in my lungs turned to cloying smoke. My stomach dropped in a nauseating freefall. My breath hitched, shallow and fragmented. The warmth that had suffused my face moments before fled in an instant, replaced by icy stillness.
