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I couldn’t help it. A smile tugged at my lips.
“It smells good, though.”
He looked offended. “I can cook my own meals.”
I stared at him, then deliberately looked him up and down. “You look like you survive on caffeine and spite.”
The silence lasted all of two seconds, then I watched his eye twitch.
“You talk too much.”
“And you talk too little.”
He frowned.
I wagged the spatula at him. “For starters, I think the only thing your face can do is glare at me. You’ve been glaring at me for two days straight.”
“I do not glare.”
“You absolutely glare.”
“I don’t.”
“You do.”
“I don’t.”
“You look like a serial killer.”
Knox looked personally insulted, and I bit my lip. But I failed spectacularly and laughed. I was certain I saw the ghost of a smile flicker over his face.
The sound of my laughter echoed through the kitchen. It sounded so strange to my ears. For the first time in years, I felt something other than fear. The feeling was fragile. It made me want to hold on to it.
Knox stared at me for a long moment, then grabbed a plate.
“What?” I asked.
His eyes moved toward the pancakes. “You made them. I’m eating them.”
My grin widened. “Wow.”
His frown deepened. “What now?”
“You almost sounded grateful.”
His expression immediately darkened. “I take it back.”
I burst out laughing again.
That morning, it genuinely felt like something had shifted between us, and I wanted to hold on to it for as long as I could.
Chapter Six
Wren
The days passed by quickly in a blur. I woke up every morning with fear sitting inside my veins, already awake before I was. But when I opened my eyes to that smell that I was quickly becoming acquainted with—citrus and leather—I was also starting to associate it with something else: safety.
But the strangest thing about safety was, I didn’t know what to do with it. Fear was easy. It seemed like all I'd known, but there had to be a time when it wasn't like that.
