“Morning,” she said.
“Hey.”
Her eyes moved over my face. “You look terrible.”
“Thanks. Love waking up to compliments.”
“I’m not being mean.” She set her phone down, which I noticed because Vanessa didn’t set her phone down unless she wanted me to notice. “You sleep?”
“Some.”
“You were tossing around all night.”
I opened the fridge, forgot what I was looking for, closed it, opened it again, then grabbed a carton of eggs like that had been the plan. My thoughts kept skipping. Food. Practice. Declan. Door. Vanessa asking something. Eggs. Did I have clean socks? Because I knew you would take care of it.
“Jace.”
I turned. “What?”
Her mouth tightened a little. “I asked if you wanted to go to that dinner tonight after practice. The brand thing. I told you about it.”
Right. The dinner. Influencers, a steakhouse, cameras pretending not to be cameras, men in expensive jackets asking me how the season felt while looking over my shoulder for someone more famous.
“I have video after practice.”
“You always have video.”
“It’s my job.”
“I know that.” She slid off the stool. “I’m trying to include you in things, that’s all.”
That was the part that stopped me from being an asshole immediately. She was trying. Not in the way I always wanted, maybe, not in a way that fixed whatever was thinning between us, but she had made coffee and stayed off her phone for almost five minutes and asked me to come somewhere instead of just assuming I wouldn’t.
I cracked an egg too hard. Shell broke into the bowl.
“Shit.”
“I can do it.”
“I’ve got it.”
“I didn’t say you didn’t.”
The edge in her voice made me look at her. She was standing by the island now, arms tucked around herself, not dramatically, not like a performance. Just defensive.
I hated that I had put that look there.
“Sorry,” I said, forcing my hand to slow down as I fished shell out of the bowl. “I’m not awake.”
“You’re awake. You’re just not here.”
That landed too close.
“I’m standing in the kitchen.”
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
