Page 52 of The Fated Mate Bandit

He stands up. “Okay. I’ll get started, then. Is there anything you want?”

“If you’re using my mom’s recipes, I’m sure I’ll like whatever you make. I don’t cook for myself that often. Thank you, baby.”

He beams at that. Maybe he wants to be useful. I guess he hasn’t had the chance to do much besides rest and shop during the last few days. When we were growing up, he helped my omega mom cook whenever he could. I remember how much he’d light up every time she praised or thanked him.

He opens my pantry and scans the contents. I know it’s old-fashioned, but the idea of Lucas cooking for me fills my heart with warmth. It reminds me of my omega mom cooking for our family growing up. She wasn’t a traditional omega, of course. She ran her own business, swore like a sailor, and had plenty of tattoos. But the kitchen was her domain, and she could cook better than anyone I knew. Even when we were struggling financially, we ate well because of her.

I’ve always secretly hoped I’d bond to an omega like that.

“Can you make my mom’s beef stew? I think I have all the ingredients, but I can run to the store if you need anything,” I say.

I’ve had plenty of beef stew since leaving home, and none of it holds a candle to hers. She adds just the right amount of spices and uses potatoes and rice instead of noodles. The recipe takes hours to make, or I’d cook it myself more often.

He smiles. “Yeah, I can do that.”

“Thank you, baby. That means a lot.”

Over the next few hours, I watch him cooking out the corner of my eye. He slices the carrots exactly the way my omega mom does and even holds the salt-shaker over the pot at the same angle, sipping at the broth to check the flavor as he sprinkles it.

The best part is how the cooking calms him. He gets lost in chopping, sprinkling, and stirring, barely noticing me or where he is. I don’t remember him getting this absorbed in cooking when we were younger.

Is this how he coped with the last five years of being bonded to Daryll? It’s strange to think of my cuddly Lucas finding solace in something other than human contact. He used to remain terrified for hours after altercations with his dad unless we cuddled.

He really has changed.

23

LUCAS

Silver has the good stuff. Thick beef stock, organic carrots, fresh basil that I find in a dainty clear box on the top shelf of the fridge. I reach for my phone because I never use fresh basil, and I’m not sure if I should add more or less. Then I remember it’s charging in the guest bedroom.

And I remember the text messages I don’t want to see yet.

I make a quick guess with the basil, rather than going to retrieve my phone. Over the next two hours, I make Ruby’s recipe from memory, her voice echoing in my head, until I’m stirring a pot of finished stew. It smells perfect; it tastes even better. I’ve never been able to replicate Ruby’s recipe with the cheap stuff I have to work with at home.

I turn off the burner and set the ladle on the counter. My heart is at peace, the way it often is after a long afternoon in the kitchen. I think of my phone again and the messages I must face at some point. I feel braver now than I have since I got here.

If I hurry and check the messages now, I won’t have to worry about them while I’m eating with Silver.

I leave Silver typing away on his computer to retreat down the hallway and into the guest room. My phone is waiting on top of the pillow. I press the home button and wait for it to boot up. It’s old enough that it takes forever. I worry about the stew cooling on the stove. I could come back to this later, when my phone is finally on. But just when I’m about to stand, messages from Daryll pop up on the screen.

Are you fucking kidding me right now? You stayed out the whole night?

I went to the dine and they said you missed your shift. We need that money, Lucas.

Answer your fucking phone.

I hate this. Where the hell are you?

Answer your phone.

When I get a hold of you, you’re going to be sorry for this.

What’s your plan here? Take care of three pups on your own? I know your dads won’t take you in.

No one will take you in. No one else loves you.

The words on the screen pull me back to reality. Daryll is my actual mate. The diner is where I work. Rent is due in less than a week, and he’s right. We need the money. The last few days now seem like a dream—a dream I’ll need to wake up from at some point.

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