Page 39 of Bones

It wasn’t forced or polite—I’d seen enough of those to recognize them from anyone. His was real, like he was genuinely happy to see me.

My steps threatened to falter as my heart lurched in my chest, but I kept going.

Right up until he said, “Perfect timing. Frittata is almost done.”

My muscles tightened, and my fists balled as a wave of rage twisted around me so strong that it froze me in place for a moment. I inhaled deeply and forced my body to relax.

That was weird.

Frittatas were Ryan’s favorite breakfast. When Deke mentioned them the day before, the reminder of him had caused a surge of fear. That time, it was anger like I’d never felt before.

It might not have been saying much since I rarely got angry, but that was exactly why it shook me.

A surprising amount of guilt and confusion mixed with the other whirling intense emotions.

Not even a day away from him, and I’m adding wrath to my long list of sins.

I thought I hid my feelings well, but Deke’s smile instantly dropped away.

And I instantly wanted it back.

Actually, I wanted to kick myself for ruining the moment. For letting thoughts of Ryan ruin the moment.

“You okay?” he asked, his concerned gaze scanning me.

I wasn’t, but I nodded anyway.

He lifted his mug. “Coffee?”

I nodded again and started for the coffeemaker on the counter, but he somehow beat me there.

For a massive man, he’s surprisingly speedy.

Filling a mug, he passed it to me before opening a drawer. There was a mess of sugar packets, powdered creamer, and stirrers, along with plastic utensils, paper napkins, and every type of condiment package imaginable.

It looks like he’s been stealing from each restaurant table and coffee bar he passes.

I turned a questioning gaze his way.

“It’s easier to grab shit from work than to shop,” he said with a sheepish smile. It was an unexpected expression from a burly man who resembled a lumberjack—right down to the flannel shirt over his tee.

He’d mentioned his work the day before with the mess of notes on the pad, but I hadn’t gotten a good look before he’dflipped the page. I wanted to know more about it. For whatever reason, I wanted to knoweverythingabout him. It was yet another time I would’ve appreciated a vision, but since my curse was still giving me the silent treatment, I tried to convey my curiosity on my face.

Deke didn’t pick up on it as he moved around me to take the breakfast out of the oven. Even though it smelled amazing—especially since his version had the yolks and what appeared to be an obscene amount of cheese—my stomach churned at the thought of eating it. I felt ungrateful, but when he grabbed two plates, I put my hand on his arm to stop him.

“What’s up?” he asked.

I looked from him to the pan, then back and shook my head.

“Don’t like it?”

It wasn’t that I disliked it, per se. It wasn’t even the connection to Ryan. But I’d cooked and eaten it multiple times a week foryears. I could happily go the rest of my life without ever seeing one again. It was rude and ungracious, but so was wasting food.

Since there was no way to mime all that, I settled for a thumbs down. I held up my coffee and hoped he understood that I was happy with that.

He got the message. He just didn’t like it. “Need more than coffee for breakfast.” Rather than telling me to get over it or being offended that I wouldn’t eat the food, he opened the fridge and pulled out a bundle wrapped in white paper. “Stuck with just cheese and a hot pepper blend in that since I knew you liked both, but I’ve also got bacon I can fry up.”

Spice was enough to briefly tempt me, but my aversion still said no. I nodded about the bacon, though.

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