Page 58 of Trustfall

I wakeup in a cold sweat. Something is wrong. I feel around me for the delicate warmth that has been by my side every night this past week, but the bed is cold. I check my phone. Five thirty. It’s her day off. She wouldn’t have left this early. I jump up and pad over to the door, swinging it open.Where is she?I check the bathroom, but she’s not there. Then I smell the faint aroma of…pancakes?

I walk into the kitchen and survey the scene. Several mixing bowls are smeared with what looks like batter. Some of it drips down the sides. A whisk is hanging precariously off the side of the counter, caked with thick clumps of flour. An open carton of eggs lies forgotten near the sink, several shells resting beside it. Right in the midst of this chaotic display, Emory is humming to herself as she flips pancakes. There is already a stack of what looks like almost a dozen of them lying on a plate next to the stove.

“What’s going on here?” I ask, startling her. When she jumps, the spatula she’s holding flips up, and a few drops of butter splatter across her shirt.

“Shit, sorry,” I say, grabbing a dish towel to wipe the butter off. I unintentionally feel her up as I move the towel around until she takes it from me to do it herself. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s okay,” she replies. “Sorry if I woke you. I couldn’t sleep, so I decided to make breakfast. This is the only thing I know how to make, and you had all the ingredients. My grandma taught me when I was six. She tried to teach me how to cook other dishes, but this is the only one that stuck. I’ll clean everything up. I promise.” Her eyes meet mine, dancing back and forth with apprehension. Is she worried I would be mad about the mess? She’s been on edge ever since she came to my door, crying and disoriented a few nights ago. She has slept in my bed, in my arms, every night since. I haven’t even had to ask her to. Every single night, she comes over right after work. Or sometimes she has a quick dinner with Allie first. Either way, she ends up in my bed at the end of the day.

We haven’t had sex since the hike. I’ve been scared to touch her like that. She seems so fragile. I noticed this side of Emory when I first saw her that day in her driveway, but then there were so many flashes of the girl I used to know.

Now she’s worse than before.

She won’t talk to me. I tried that first morning. I knew she would be up early for work, so I set my alarm twenty minutes before hers. I pleaded with her to tell me what happened, but all she would say was that it was a misunderstanding and she was fine.

“Smells delicious,” I muse, shaking myself from my thoughts. “I’ll never say no to pancakes.”

She relaxes and smiles, grabbing a clean plate and stacking a few pancakes on it before she hands it to me, along with a mug of black coffee. “There’s butter and syrup on the table.”

I take the plate and mug and head over to the kitchen table. I douse the pancakes in syrup because you can never have too much, then I cut a slice and take a bite. It’s warm and sweet from the syrup, but the actual pancake is delicious, flaky, and buttery with a hint of spice—cinnamon, maybe.

“This is the best pancake I’ve ever had,” I tell her through bites of food.

“Stop. You’re messing with me.”

“I swear, I’m not. It’s really good,” I insist.

Her lips tug into a smile, and I realize in that moment that I would do or say anything to keep it on her face. In the span of a month, this girl has gone from being someone I hadn’t spoken to in years to someone I can’t sleep without. She’s in my head all the time.

She goes back to her place at the stove, and I notice she hasn’t eaten anything. “Aren’t you going to eat?” I ask her.

“Oh, no. I already ate,” she responds quickly, and I know it’s a lie.

But what can I do? I can’t force food down her throat.

“So, what’s on your agenda for today?” I ask, changing the subject as I devour the rest of my stack.

“I’m going to try to visit Gram and then relax…read a book, take a bath.”

“Sounds good.” I stand up and wrap my arms around her waist from behind. Her hair falls in loose waves out of the messy bun on top of her head, and she has flour smeared on the side of her face. I let my eyes wander south to her plump ass that’s covered in tight black leggings. Her tank top rides up as she lifts her arm to flip the pancake in the pan, giving me a view of the little birthmark on her lower back. I’ve been nervous to imitate anything sexual since her breakdown the other day, but she’s so fucking sexy right now, I can’t help myself. “Any chance there’s room for two in this bath?” I whisper in her ear. She immediately stiffens, but then laughs it off, swatting me away. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Collins. It’s called self-care for a reason. I don’t need a man involved.”

There it is. That spark. The guts. I knew my girl was still in there. But this is the first time I’ve seen a real glimpse of her since the other night, and I don’t want to push it. Okay, okay,” I say, holding my hands up. “I’ll stay away.”

“How about later, then?” I ask. “Come over? We can watch a movie. Order Thai food.”

“I don’t know.” She pretends to think, tapping her finger against her lips. “The self-care might take all night.”

“Oh yeah? Well, in that case, I definitely need to be involved.” I inch down her body, so I have a good hold, and then I scoop her up. She squeals in surprise and starts to kick as I walk her over to the table and set her down on a chair. “But first, you need to help me eat the rest of these pancakes. There’s no way I can finish all this.”

She rolls her eyes, but grabs a pancake, rolls it up, dips it into a puddle of syrup, and takes a bite.

“Good girl,” I say, and I don’t miss how her cheeks flush a soft pink at my words.

My girl likes praise.

I’m placinga takeout order on my phone when I hear a soft knock at the door. I swing it open to find Emory standing there looking like a fucking snack. Her hair is down, falling in chestnut waves to her shoulders. Her makeup is subtle, just enough to accentuate her natural beauty. Tight black leggings wrap around her legs and—fuck—she’s wearing my gray Halpern’s T-shirt from the bar I used to work at.

“You gonna keep staring or invite me in?” she asks with a smirk that I want to wipe off her bratty little mouth.

---