Page 81 of Scorned Obsession

“She’s cooking.”

“Obviously.”

Sticks raised a brow.

“I consider that a win. Get out of here.”

He still didn’t budge. “When do I check back on you?”

“You don’t.”

“Boss, give me something here.”

“If you find me bled out in the middle of the kitchen, I deserved it,” I gritted. “Protect Bianca at all costs. Get rid of my body if you must.”

“Christ…”

Thechop-chop-chopof the knife continued and was the only noise that punctuated our staredown.

“Fine.”

“Don’t you dare turn on the surveillance.”

“I’ll text you every half hour.”

I wanted to snarl, but every second arguing with Sticks was every second not keeping my full attention on Bianca. “Fine.”

His gaze flitted behind me again.

“What?” I snapped.

“I’ve seen this behavior.”

“This?”

“Back in Afghanistan. Our convoy got hit by an IED. It was blood and gore before the quick reaction team repelled the attack,” Sticks said, but his eyes had taken on a thousand-yard stare as if he was reliving that day again. “LT…our lieutenant…let’s just say he tried to save the leg of one of our boys, but he bled out and died. A lot of us were just shell-shocked, you know… The aftermath of an explosion is just surreal…unreal…” He paused. “Chaos… Even after we’d been evacuated from thescene, it was as if we’re still there.” He tapped the side of his head. “In here.”

I stayed silent, letting Sticks go through whatever mind space he’d drifted to. He’d seen the worst of war and somehow juxtaposed it with what Bianca experienced, so my panic abated. I should trust in her resilience.

“What happened?” I prodded.

“LT left the barracks. He went to the cook and next we knew we were chowing down under a tent and LT was the one serving us. It was his way of coping.” Sticks nodded to where my wife continued slicing and dicing vegetables. “From the first day, that’s how Bianca had coped with the situation of her captivity. In the kitchen.”

“Well, I’ll be damned.” I glanced back at my wife and I was already feeling more settled with her behavior. “Then I’m going to let her cope.”

“I’m still checking on you every fifteen minutes.”

“You said half an hour.”

Sticks grinned and flicked me a mock salute before heading out.

I returned to Bianca and sat mesmerized as she methodically prepped whatever she was cooking. After another ten minutes, she set a baking pan across two burners. “Smells good, baby. What are you making with all these ingredients?”

“Dad’s frittata.”

Slight panic arrested my heart. There was one man I could never see myself replacing as Bianca’s number one—at least not yet. So she was thinking about her dad. It didn’t mean she was wishing I’d never been a part of her life.

“I’ve never tasted your dad’s frittata.”

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