On my way to the bed, I grabbed my switchblade and propped it under my pillow. Then I fell into the soft bedding and stared at nothing until my eyelids could bear it no more. Sleep took me, and for several hours I was stuck in a black void, conscious enough to feel the pain, but too trapped from exhaustion to wake up.

*****

The sound of pots and pans woke me up. My head ached from the light streaming through the one large window in the bedroom. I turned over and opened my eyes immediately, aware of what we’d done, of what I’d walked away from. Sleep had dulled my sense of reality, and for a long while I’d completely forgotten what had happened, expecting to wake up to Remy’s scent and the darkness of our room.

I moved off the bed and walked out of the room, feeling the cool hardwood floors under my feet as I stopped just outside the kitchen. I peered in through cloudy eyes and regarded the shirtless, tall man in front of the stove. God, he was huge. Maybe even bigger than Remy. He certainly was more ripped than him. His back displayed every muscle – some I didn’t even think existed – as he moved around on a mission to cook.

His jeans were low, revealing his black briefs that hugged the areas I would have given anything to see. My eyebrows rose in delight that he, too, was barefoot. Why did that stir my chest so much? Maybe it was that he was homely and comfortable here. Or maybe I just liked his fucking feet.

“Morning,” he greeted without glancing back at me.

I wondered how long he knew I’d been standing there. Man had stalker senses.

“Morning,” I replied. “What are you cooking?”

“Pancakes.”

“Do you need help making the mix?” He’d always sucked at it back when we’d lived together…which was about a century ago now.

“Already had it mixed.”

He pulled out a large jug of the thick pancake mix. I frowned, wondering if his friend had made it for him too.

I settled myself into a seat around a small round table on the side of the kitchen. I could see his complete profile from my view. The determined look on his face would have been laughable if I was comfortable enough to do just that. The weird buzz of tension was still thick around us. He told me to come away with him. That I would be his. So why wasn’t he showing me how much of his I was?

I drummed my fingers along the table, searching hard in my empty mind for something to talk about. Talk about his mom! Yes. Perfect.

“How’s your mom doing? I tried calling her a few times a while back but only got her voicemail.”

“I told her not to answer your calls in case anyone found out. She’s out of Gosnells,” he quietly explained. “I told her to pack her shit for a while until the heat died down.”

“Where did she go?”

“After she got over her hissy fit, she said she wanted to go traveling. Apparently she’s always wanted to see the world.”

“Oh.” Well, that would have been extremely exciting for her. I couldn’t recall a time she’d ever left the town. Worse than that, I couldn’t ever recall her ever telling me she wanted to travel the world.

Drumming away still, I leaned against the chair and ogled the entire kitchen. I mean, there was nothing else to do. He wasn’t talking, and all the things I wanted to discuss were heavy shit. I figured it was way too early to delve into that heavy shit. We needed to do some reconnecting first.

I was surprised when he finally set the plate of pancakes in front of me. They were cooked to perfection; a golden brown without any burnt bits and smelled delicious. He placed maple syrup in the centre of the table and sat on the opposite end with his own mountain of pancakes on a gigantic plate of his own.

While they looked amazing, I wasn’t really that hungry. I had a few bites, but as I swallowed, they sat fitfully in my stomach. I was unable to process this complete change of my scenery and a part of me felt haunted for abandoning Remy the way I did. I ended up kicking the pancakes around, imagining how hurt he was.

When I finally finished my pitiable reveries, I looked up. Jaxon was staring holes into my head, and he didn’t look happy. I blinked down at his plate, surprised that it was empty. How long had I sat there staring at my food thinking about Remy and how horrible of a human being I was? I felt his accusing eyes dart down to my plate and back at me. I swear he knew where my thoughts had slid away to.

“Why aren’t you eating?” he asked, and it came out dangerously low. I’d forgotten how intimidating he’d gotten.

“I’m not very hungry,” I muttered.

“You need to eat.”

I shrugged. “What do you want me to do, Jaxon? Force it down when all I want to do is throw up?”

“Why do you want to throw up?”

“I feel nauseous.”

“In the morning? What, are you fucking pregnant?” Disbelief emerged in those blue eyes, as he stared accusingly down at my stomach and then my face.

My eyes bulged out of my head. “Um, no!”

“Are you sure?”

“Pretty darn!”

“Then eat!”

I pushed the plate away from me, scowling at him. Now that he was demanding me to eat, suddenly I didn’t want to. “I don’t want to eat, Jaxon.”

He pushed the plate back to where it was. “You’ve lost a ridiculous amount of weight. It’s disgusting.”

My jaw dropped. “You’re such an asshole!”

“Why?”

“What do you mean ‘why’? You just told me I look disgusting!”

“No, I said it’s disgusting.”

“What’s the difference?”

Nose flaring, eyebrows bunched, he growled, “The fact you don’t eat is disgusting! You’ve lost at least ten pounds. You’re like a goddamn stray cat, bones and all. Your tits have shrunk, your hips aren’t as wide. I know how much you used to eat. You were like a fucking starved caveman and now you peck at your shit like a bird.”

Bird. Birdy.

I let out an unattractive grunt and stood up. “I’m going to take my stray cat ass away from you before I throw this plate at your head.”

I stormed out of the cabin and took a seat on the steps of the porch, crossing my arms. Anger flowed like blood throughout my body. One fucking encounter with him and we were back there again! Goddammit all to hell! I hated him.

I fucking loved him too.