Page 60 of Sweet Deception
Doesn’t matter. The bottom line is that I still don’t trust him. I can’t.
Even if we weren’t in this clusterfuck of a scenario, trusting him would be the wrong answer.Trusting someone is the first step toward letting them hurt you, Nika.
And I won’t go down that path. I won’t.
That’s what I promise myself as I march down the stairs, that glorious smell of bacon leading me straight to the kitchen.
I find a freshly showered Darren standing at the stove.
His appearance has been immaculate since I met him. Aside from last night, when he came across as so disheveled. Like a boy who’d been out to play all day. Grease stains marking his arms like tattoos, his hands dark with oil…
I notice a small speck of motor fluid splattered under his jaw.
I smile.Missed a spot.
Swallowing my grin, I breeze into the kitchen without so much as a “good morning.” A clock hanging over the refrigerator reads six past eleven.
A steady energy radiates from Darren while he cooks, his focus on the bacon he’s frying and the eggs he’s scrambling.
At the sight of his wired eyes,I wonder if he slept at all.
“Did you…get any rest?”
He shakes his head without glancing up. “Sometimes, I just can’t sleep.”
“Would you have stayed at the Hub if not for me?” I don’t mean to ask the question aloud, but I’m so off my game right now, my usual filter hasn’t come online just yet.
Darren responds with a grin. And I smile back a little even though it feels so entirely strange.
My baby doesn’t even cross my mind until I see him weaving between Darren’s legs, purring loudly.
Darren steals a hunk of scrambled egg out of the skillet and blows on it before ripping the piece into bite-sized morsels. He drops them on the ground for Piro, who pounces on the food like it’s the most delicious treat.
I’m wowed by the sight of them together.
Even though I’ve witnessed this behavior multiple times since arriving at the cottage or safe house—or whatever this place is—the casual tenderness of his gesture catches me off guard.
He just…doesn’t make any sense to me.
This dangerous man who spends his nights street racing and his mornings feeding my tiny kitty. Is this the same guy who pulled a gun on me, who’s holding us both captive here?
When Darren notices me watching, he shrugs. “What? Napalm earned it.”
I can’t stop myself. “Piro.”
He raises his eyebrows. “Hungry?”
That’s exactly why I came down here… I can see he’s made enough for two… I’m starving… And yet, I don’t know what to say.
He was ready to kill me yesterday.
And he still might today.
And this is the second home-cooked meal he’s prepared.
The scent of the bacon reminds me of Sunday brunch with my grandmother. Now that I think about it, other than meals with my grandmother and then with Maya and Lucy as we settled into adulthood, I’ve never really…eaten with anyone. Except for the last time I shared a meal with Darren, that is.
In foster homes, I refused to eat at the table with the other kids. I always took my meals alone or skipped them altogether.
