“I know I look so crazy right now,” she mumbled.
“No, you don’t.”
His answer came quickly, confidently, as if he needed her to believe him. His hands carefully settled against her waist before turning her toward him. Cyren looked down immediately. Heavy’s fingers slid beneath her chin and gently lifted her face. His thumb wiped away a tear before it could reach her jaw. His tenderness shattered any remaining strength she had. New tears began to flow. Experiencing tenderness after surviving in survival mode can feel unimaginable.
“It’s a’ight,” he said in a soothing tone.
Her mouth trembled.
“No, it’s not. I should know how to make them. I watched her do it for years. It’s like I’m forgetting the small things about her, and I hate it.”
Heavy wiped away the liquid as if it were nothing, as if her tears weren’t a bother. “You know what I think?” he asked.
Cyren shook her head.
“I think grief be making people feel guilty over shit they ain’t supposed to. Shit they can’t control.”
Her brows dipped, urging him to continue.
“You missing her doesn’t mean you forgot her,” he softly continued. “And messing up pancakes don’t erase all them mornings you had with her.”
Hearing that hurt. Not because he was wrong, but because there was truth behind his statement. Cyren’s face folded beforeshe could stop it. The ugly kind of crying threatened to appear, and she hated that he was seeing this version of her again.
Heavy kissed her forehead before pulling back enough to look at her. “It’s okay to cry, Pooh. Don’t feel silly about that.”
Cyren sniffled. “Okay.”
“Plus...” Heavy added, smirking. It wouldn’t be like him if he didn’t lighten the moment.
Cyren’s wet lashes fluttered. “What?”
“I like my pancakes a lil’ burnt anyway. I was still gon’ eat ‘em.”
A laugh escaped her before she could stop it. Heavy smiled, loving how he could put a smile on her face. He hated to see her cry.
“There she go,” he murmured.
Cyren shook her head while wiping beneath her eyes. “You’re so annoying.”
“I know.” He smirked and scooted her to the side. “Now c’mon.”
Her brows lifted. “What?”
“We gon’ try again. I know you can make them. Grab the vegetable oil from the cabinet. That’s probably what you were missing.”
Cyren watched as he washed his hands, then reached for the bowl. She was genuinely in awe, feeling vulnerable in the presence of the shirtless man in his kitchen at just nine in the morning, taking over pancake duties because she missed her mama.
Something in her chest ached even more fiercely as she realized that people like Heavy were genuinely dangerous, just as she had always suspected. It wasn’t because they could cause her physical harm, but because they had a way of convincing her that staying put, dwelling on the what-if, might actually be safe. Only time would tell.
The next batch of pancakes turned out better. They weren’t exactly like Nicole’s, but they were edible. Heavy still ate one of the darker ones, and Cyren made sure to add extra cheese to his eggs. While she finished drinking her juice, Heavy cleaned up the kitchen.
“Mm. That was so good,” Cyren said, sitting back in her chair.
Heavy licked his lips that reminded him of her; sweet and fulfilling. “It was. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Next time, you’re cooking.”
They chuckled. Heavy didn’t mind that. He’d cooked for her before and would for as long as she let him.
