I spent a couple of hours in the kitchen drinking coffee and thinking about what I wanted to say to them. Especially to Zara.
Then I decided to make use of the state-of-the-art kitchen that I’m pretty sure has been just used by the personal chef Lev’s parents pay to leave freshly cooked meals in their freezer.
I saw a waffle maker next to the Keurig, and since the fridge and the pantry are stocked with everything one might want; I thought I’d make breakfast. I even let Chance know that they don’t need to bring anything from outside.
They should be back any minute now, and I have a huge plate of waffles staying warm in the oven. I cook a whole family pack of bacon and I’m scrambling some eggs when I realize that I’m no longer alone in the kitchen.
The feeling of being watched makes me turn around.
Zara has just entered the kitchen in a t-shirt three sizes too big for her, her bare feet making no noise on the tiled floor.
She stops when she spots me, frozen in place like the proverbial deer caught in the headlights.
I turn back to the pan of eggs I’m stirring, and she approaches me cautiously, stopping a couple of steps behind me.
“Here,” I open the oven and grab a piece of bacon, offering it to her.
She accepts it with a small smile curving the corners of her soft lips. Every time we’ve had breakfast at our parents’ house, I noticed how Zara can never resist the bacon, especially if it’s crispy.
“Thank you.”
The eggs are ready, so I turn them off. I have plates warming up in the oven too.
“Coffee?”
When she nods, I press the start button on the coffeemaker.
I can’t take my eyes off of her while she nibbles on the bacon. Maybe it’s a little rude to stare at her like this, but the truth is that since the day we met, Zara has had my attention, no matter what.
She uses the hem of her shirt to clean the grease off her fingers, and I’m about to tell her that we have napkins or kitchen paper, but she speaks before I can.
“Ares, before Chance and Lev get here and before this whole thing turns into another fight, I owe you an apology.”
I open my mouth to tell her that I think I’m the one who should apologize for how I talked to her yesterday when I walked in on the three of them.
“No, please.” She stops me. “Before you say anything, let me say what I need to. I should have told you I was JJ. I was going to a couple of times. But I always chickened out because I was scared of how you would react.”
When I don’t say anything, she continues.
“The truth is that I have no idea who tried to hit me in Bridgeport. So I didn’t think it would help you a great deal to know it was me on that old Aprilia. After everything went down, I ran because I was terrified of what my mom would do if she saw me on that racetrack. I even left my old bike behind.”
I’ve spent the last two years hoping that whenever I found the elusive JJ Smith, he could tell me who ended up killing my brother in the attempt to hurt him. I joined the police force to have access to more resources to find Smith.
The disappointment must be written all over my face, because Zara apologizes again.
“I’m so sorry, Ares. I understand if you’re angry. Even if I have no idea why someone would want to hurt me, I blame myself for what happened to Atlas. If I hadn’t been on that racetrack, maybe he would be here now.”
Fuck.
I close the distance between us in two short strides. Her hand is so small when I take it into mine.
“None of what happened in Bridgeport is your fault. All this time, I wanted to find JJ Smith in the hopes that he wouldknow who could be trying to come after him. That’s the only reason why I wanted to talk to him. I never thought that he was responsible for what happened. The only person who’s responsible is the person who tried to ram into you.”
Her eyes are two huge pools of barely contained tears when our gazes meet. “Really? You don’t hate me?”
“Hate you?” How could I have fucked this up so badly that she can think, even for one minute, that I could ever hate her?
I pull her closer, and I’m relieved when she doesn’t fight me.
