Page 78 of Bring You Back

I don’t think about it, and I don’t thank Julian. I grab a spoon, a plate, and join him at the island, thanking him for something else.

“Thanks for keeping that on,” I say with a gesture toward the porch light. “I’ll turn it off in the morning.”

I cut into my grapefruit as Julian eyes the light, his fingers pinching the side of his plate. He looks back down at me. “Why do you need it on?”

The knife scrapes against my plate on the last cut and the fruit halves fall open as I take in the way he phrased the question. It wasn’tWhy is the light on?It wasWhy do youneedit on?After the show I unknowingly gave him, and my last words, I’m not surprised he would assume the light is a prerequisite to the night.

“It helps,” I say simply. If he wants more, he’ll have to ask for more.

“Helps what?”

He’s pushing. Why is he pushing? Now? My chest flutters uncomfortably, and I’m aware of my heart again as it picks up speed. My body tells me I can’t talk or think about this. I can’t give him more. Not when we’ll wake up tomorrow to the same routine—Julian back in the asshole role as he avoids me as much as he can and fucks Reyna wherever she’ll have him. Which, thankfully, hasn’t been here. I wasn’t expecting him to be home tonight. He got his daily jolly out of his system when the two left together earlier.Appreciate it,I snark off in my head.

At the risk of another show, I breathe, clear my throat, then say, “Routine.” I give him a pointed look. “You seem to be familiar with that now.” He shakes his head like I’m not giving him the answers he wants.It’s not very fun, is it?I’m a truth spitter, just not always my own, especially when it’s not entirely deserved.

I shrug. “I just want things to be. . .”

“Normal?”

His voice is soft around that still-present guarded edge. I nod with a tight smile and break away to the pantry.

“You don’t like grapefruit.”

But Caleb does.

Did.

Julian’s observant, too. His tone is questioning at the contradiction. I want routine, and yet I’m eating grapefruit. The opposite ofnormal. The food of my dead sibling.

I return to his side with my bottle of honey, giving it a wave as I announce it. “Honey.”

“Honey,” he repeats.

“Works wonders.” I pop the top. “Magic puke.”

“Magic puke,” he mutters at his own untouched late night snack. I could smile at the way he’s repeating my words, much like he used to do, so amused by everything that I say. He’s trying to hide the smile that’s there, because he still is.

“It can make anything taste good.” I slather my grapefruit halves with honey, then slap the top shut, lick the residue from my fingers. His eyes shift back to me and I meet them, finger still in my mouth. I slide it from my lips slowly, and his eyes slip to the movement before jerking to the bottle of honey, his jaw tight. He snatches the bottle and squeezes lines of honey onto his toast. As more of a distraction than actually wanting to put my theory to the test.

He finally takes a bite, his fast chewing turning slow as the rich, smooth taste of the butter mixes with the thick, sweet taste of the honey. Has he seriously never put honey on toast before? His brows raise in praise. He likes it, and I like that. But I still slide the bottle back toward me.

“Get your own.”

I spoon my first bite of grapefruit into my mouth as Julian drops the rest of his toast to his plate. “I’m sorry for what I said about Caleb.”

I could laugh. The effort it took him to muster that one. I’m not receptive, but at least I givehima response. “It’s fine.”

“It’s notfine, Camille.”

“It wasfinewhen you said it,” I snap back, pointing my spoon at him. “If I say it’s fine, it’s fine. And you forget, I know you’re going through your asshole phase.”

He laughs at my wording, the sound both genuinely amused and bitter. He can’t decide who he wants to be tonight.

He’s not eating. He’s watching me eat. I take advantage of his stare again and slide another finger into my mouth. He looks away and I wonder when the day will come when he doesn’t.

“What do you know about phases?”

He’s challenging me, trying to settle a score. But there’s also a curiosity in his questions, in the way his stare keeps trying to find mine after each one. What do I know about phases? I’m wearing one.

---