Page 26 of Word to the Wise

“You’re home.” She stops at the other side of the kitchen island.

Home.

Something about that word from her mouth floods my chest. Nothing has felt like home in so long that I forgot what those four letters together meant. But from her lips, with her standing looking up at me with pieces from her messy bun falling over her face, that’s what this place is.

Home.

“My last appointment finished early.”

Early being eight o’clock. But I normally work until at least nine, so I’m not surprised she wasn’t expecting me.

Reed sets her laptop on the counter. Her fingers pause over it for a moment, and her eyes are a little red like she’s been crying, making me wonder what she saw on there. But I don’t ask. I don’t bring anything up unless she wants to talk about it.

It can’t be easy stepping slowly back into reality when she’s been hiding away.

I’ve done that once—even if my reason for leaving was different from hers.

Reed doesn’t immediately disappear to her room like I expect. Instead, she slides onto one of the stools at the kitchen island, watching me plate the pancakes.

Her bruises have mostly faded over the past couple weeks. And the blood that was pooled in the corner of one eye has receded to a point where I can only see thefaint hint of it when she glances all the way to her right. Every day she looks more like the girl I first met.

Now if only she’d smile.

I didn’t think it was possible to miss a smile when I’d only been around her once. But the way her eyes light up with her cheeks knocks me on my ass, and what I would give to see that kind of brightness shine out of her again.

“I was just checking in with work.” Reed tugs at the bottom of her sweater.

The fact that she’s explaining herself tells me what’s bothering her isn’t actually work-related, but I don’t call her out on it. It’s not my place to monitor what she’s doing or who she’s talking to. So even if I hate the thought that she might have been using her laptop to contact Carter, I bury the urge to stab this spatula through his temple.

“Everything good at work?”

“Yeah.” Her eyes drift down to where I’m flipping another pancake. “My boss said to take all the time off I need. But I’ll probably try to write again next week.”

“You got a story in mind?” I pull one of the pancakes off the skillet.

“I do.” She nods. “I’m working on a piece about Zane Hotels opening a new location in San Francisco. It’s not what I’d like to be writing, but it pays the bills. And at least it’s mostly fact hunting, so it’s easier than emotionally-driven pieces.”

“Zane Hotels?” My mouth dries.

“Yeah, there’s some controversy surrounding the CEO and how he runs his business. Carter asked me to help paint a nice picture for the Board of Supervisors to help the deal go through.” She shakes her head. “Not that I should still be doing him any favors.”

I almost lose my grip on the spatula at what she’s saying. Blood drains from my face.

I know better than to think you can outrun your problems, but with what Reed’s saying, my stomach sinks.

“Why does Carter care about Zane Hotels?”

“He’s an investor.” She glances up at me. “Sorry, I shouldn’t be talking about him.”

That’s not what bothers me. I get that she spent the last six years with this asshole, so his name is going to come up. But when Sage mentioned Carter had money and influence, I didn’t realize just how true that was until this moment.

“I killed the conversation, didn’t I? No one wants to hear about my asshole ex. I’m not even sure why I’m still talking about him.” It’s nearly a whisper, and I hate that she’s beating herself up over things she can’t control.

“It’s not that.” I shake my head, and when I look down, I see I’m burning a pancake. “Crap.”

Turning off the skillet, I transfer the remaining pancakes to the plate. Luckily only one of them burned, and the rest are golden brown.

I pick the best-looking pancakes out of the stack and place them on a plate for Reed, passing it in her direction.

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