Page 37 of Crushing Clover

“What am I going to wear to go shopping?”

“You can wear your yellow dress.”

I groaned.

“What? Is it uncomfortable?”

“I look terrible in yellow.”

“No, you don’t. I doubt you’d look terrible in anything.”

Lucky gave me a clean T-shirt to wear to breakfast, since my dress was still in the dryer. When we got to the kitchen, Rush was plating our breakfast with fastidious, elegant movements. Such big hands shouldn’t be able to move with such grace.

“Took you long enough.”

“She had to shit.”

“Oh my god!” I snapped. “Does everyone in this house need to know everything?”

“Yes,” all three of them said in unison.

Cheeks burning, I took the seat Lucky pulled out for me at the kitchen table.

“Pets eat on the floor,” Saint John said.

Lucky paused. “Seriously, Saint?”

“Seriously, Luckface.”

I stood and tilted up my chin at Saint John. From the scowl he gave me, he didn’t like that at all.

“Where do you want me to sit?”

“Sit next to my chair for now.” He pointed to one at the head (or foot?) of the table.

“Yes, Saint.” I sank to the floor there, leaning on one hip and wishing I owned pants. The floor was freezing where it touched my bare legs.

Lucky served, but when he tried to hand me my plate, Saint John took it and put it on the table next to his.

Rush took his place at the other end of the large table, and Lucky sat somewhere along the middle. They began to eat. For a few minutes, I thought Saint John was going to make me beg for food or make me wait to eat until they were done, but he eventually offered me a forkful of food that looked like egg with something green folded in the middle.

I stared at it for a dreadful moment, then took it in my mouth. They were talking, so they didn’t notice the way I tried to swallow fast, so I wouldn’t need to chew. So gross. What the fuck was in the eggs?

“What’s wrong with you?” Saint John demanded when he tried to give me a second bite. I hadn’t meant to jerk my head back, but the damage was done.

“Nothing, Saint.” I took the second bite, and the flavor exploded on my tongue.

Yuuuck.

It tasted like the color green, but weirder than asparagus, which I also hated, and was too poor to buy anyway.

I swallowed it quickly, trying not to gag.

Now all three of them were staring at me. Shit.

I smiled at Rush, hoping he wasn’t offended. “I don’t have a very sophisticated palate. What is this called?”

“It’s a fiddlehead and bacon omelet. Nothing fancy.” He shrugged. “Gruyere cheese and chives.”

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