Decision made, I shrug Riven’s hand off my shoulder and stomp through her threshold. The air in my lungs turns to stone as I wait for the sound of her door clicking shut.
Before I fully enter the kitchen, I peer back, and everything within me relaxes.
My eyes catch Amick’s.
“If the door is open, I have permission to enter.”
He doesn’t need to explain shit to me.
I’m grateful.
The jars and porcelain containers clank around as I sling the icebox doors open and start grabbing shit out by the armfuls. Once I’m satisfied with my haul, I drop it all on the counter and move to get the kettle going.
Coffee is a definite.
Then what?
Her favorite breakfast foods are cheesy eggs, any fruit, any meat, muffins, diced potatoes…
Now that I think about it, I don’t think she’s ever complained about anything I’ve cooked.
I got time for it all.
The two bowls I grab out of the cabinet go spinning around as I toss them onto the counter. The high-pitched sound of whirling intensifies until the final frantic rattle, then they settle flat.
The absence of their racket sends the kitchen into silence aside from me clanging all the shit I need around.
I lose myself to the movement. The routine.
The knife slices through the meat with ease, leaving perfect pieces lying in wait to be seared.
The splash of cream has my flour dusting the counter. I lift the bowl, wipe underneath it, then stir.
Two perfect yolks drop into my muffin mix and I toss their shells into the compost bin without ever glancing in that direction.
I drag the next bowl closer to me and the motion becomes repetitive.
Crack. Toss.
Crack. Toss.
I rub my ear against my shoulder when a fucking soul-itching whistle continues to blare through my mind. My nose twitches and eyes go crossed as the noise intensifies.
“Creed.”
“What?”
My groan echoes between Riven and me when the egg in my hand shatters. The yolk and membrane seep through my fingers, and I grit my teeth as my fist finishes crushing the shell.
“The kettle’s about to vibrate off the stove.”
I snap my sneer from him.
That was the fucking noise.
The whistle in my mind instantly silences as I remove the kettle from the eye and drop the infuser of coffee grounds inside the rolling water.
“You good?”
