Page 59 of Shattered Veil

‘Purgatory,’ I internally reminded myself. ‘We’re in purgatory.’

“Oh.”

“Your friend, Shawn, however…”

I rubbed at my eyes. “Fuck. Work. I didn’t even call in.”

“Don’t worry, he knows you’re not dead,” she murmured.

I felt one of my eyebrows cock high as I watched her slowly chew the remainder of her bacon.

“You went into my phone?”

Cassie held up an index finger while she swallowed, and then replied, “In my defense, it was vibrating so much, it was about to start a fire on my kitchen table. Took a glance at your notifications to make sure it wasn’t Luke or anyone else and saw, like, ten missed texts from him.” Her tone softened. “It’s sweet, actually.”

I admonished her gently, “Cassie.”

“I didn’t…go into your phone,” she stated. “Wouldn’t have been able to regardless, it’s locked—I just…answered a phone call. I let the first three calls ring through to voicemail, and I only answered after the preview of his text sounded overly worried since you weren’t responding.”

I sucked on the inside of my cheek to withhold a grin, nodding all throughout her defense.

“Okay, okay.” I reached to pick up my plate, feeling the warmth of it through the thin layer of my boxer briefs as I rested it on my lap just as she had, and grabbed the fork to stab into my breakfast. “What exactly did you tell him?”

Cassie joked, “Before or after he finished squealing like a pig when I answered, ‘James’ phone, this is Cassie’?”

I pursed my lips together. “After.”

“You think you caught a stomach bug,” she told me with a smile.

“Mmm. Stomach bug. Got it. Did he ask why you were with me?”

“Uh huh—didn’t answer him. Told him you were sleeping and hung up. He has since called three more times.”

I chuckled as I lifted my fork to my mouth, tasted syrup before anything else, and grimaced when I began to chew for the texture was mealy, and the flavor…lacking.

“Angh,” I groaned through my teeth and forced myself to swallow. “Oh, that’s bad.”

She incredulously laughed, “What?”

“Your pancakes—as much as I do appreciate them—are bad.” Trading my fork for a slice of bacon as a palate cleanser, I quickly broke off a piece between my fingers and popped it into my mouth. “Can’t fuck up bacon, though.”

Cassie shoved my shoulder. “You ass!” I snickered along with her as she said, “You’re full of shit, my pancakes are totally fine.”

“I sincerely wish I were,” I replied. “Sorry, Cas—your pancakes suck.”

“They aren’t my pancakes; it’s not like I have a recipe. I followed the instructions on the back of the box—”

I interjected, “That was your first mistake.”

“What are you, a pancake enthusiast?”

“The trick is to make sure you have buttermil—”

She deadpanned, “You’re a pancake enthusiast.”

“Can I show you how to make actual pancakes?”

“Why?” she simpered. “Because you’re old and ripe with wisdom?”

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