Page 48 of Dove
The spread was nothing crazy, just eggs we always had on hand—thanks to the chickens—some buttered toast, and a batch of pancakes from a box I was pretty sure had been there since before I left. I frowned at them, wondering if they looked weird because I was a shitty cook or because they were old. I wasalmostpositive pancake mix didn’t expire. They were one of those apocalypse staples, weren’t they?
Maybe I’d try them before Dove, just in case.
I pulled out a chair for her and gestured to it. She eyed me suspiciously before padding over, her bare feet slapping adorably against the kitchen floor. God, I needed to get it together if the sight of herfeethad me in knots.
“Thank you,” she murmured, her voice still husky with sleep and edged with hesitation.
I hated that me doing something for her, for beingthere for her, made her cautious. I’d done my best to step back from her life to make itbetter, not worse. I’d been so focused on avoidingthe damage I’d create by staying that I hadn’t even taken the time to think about the damage I’d be doing byleaving.
I knew leaving would hurt Dove, but I never imagined that hurt would become an open wound that festered and deepened as the years dragged on. I pictured her moving on in a thousand different ways, never once considering that the space she’d carved out for me in her heart wouldn’t heal. That it would stay raw and empty—a hollow ache that never faded.
The spot behind my best bone twisted painfully as I fully realized I was behind Dove’s suffering. The one to blame for the ghost of her past traumas being dredged up. All because ofmyselfish actions,shehad suffered.
Before she could ask, I set a coffee down in front of her—perfectly made, just the way she liked. A small token of apology. It wasn’t even thebeginningof enough. Wouldneverbe enough. But it was a start.
“Thanks,” she repeated, soft and contemplative.
I tried not to think about what must have been going through her head and sat down across from her at the small table.
She took a sip of her coffee and closed her eyes in pure bliss.
I held in the moan that wanted to crawl its way out of my throat at the look and started to load up her plate with a little bit of everything.
When she finished inhaling the aroma and coffee and opened her eyes, she blinked at the full plate in front of her.
“You didn’t have to”—her face scrunched—“serve me.”
I shrugged a shoulder like it was no big deal, because it wasn’t, and continued to focus on piling my own plate.
She set her coffee down with a tiny disbelieving shake of her head, but I ignored it and tried to work on keeping my eyes anywhere but on her.
Picking up her fork, she dug in.
For a few minutes there was only the softness of our breathing, the clink of our silverware against our plates, and the distant crow of the rooster as it welcomed the morning.
“Why...” My eyes flickered up when she spoke and met her own. Her brows were furrowed slightly, but her eyes shone openly with contentment. Pride swelled in my chest, hoping I’d helped to clear away some of the haunts that plagued her last night. She gestured with her fork to the food in front of us. “I mean, what’s all this for?
“For you,” I answered honestly, and watched the cutest shade of pink bloom across the bridge of her nose. I tried to keep my satisfied smile to myself. She looked absolutely adorable across from me with her sleep-ruffled hair and a pillow crease still indented along one cheek. “Just wanted to give you a nice breakfast to start the day with.”
Her lips twisted in a familiar way that meant she was holding back her own pleased smile.
“Your breakfasts are severely lacking,” I teased. “Pop-Tarts arenota proper breakfast food.”
“Says you,” she muttered before taking another bite of eggs. But I had a suspicion Dove had gone too long without a decent breakfast, especially since her mom had fallen sick. My dad certainly wasn’t going to step in. We’d survived on frozen foods and take out before Josie came into the picture. My cooking was nothing compared to her mother’s, but at least it was better than what she’d been living on.
We quieted as we dug in, enjoying our breakfast and sipping our coffees, but I wanted the easy banter we’d had a moment ago, however slight. Every time I opened my mouth to say something I took a bite of the piece of toast in my hand, flaking out.
“How is it?” I finally asked once I had finished almost half my plate, not able to take the silence stretching between us. It wasn’tas tense as it could be, but it wasn’t as comfortable as it once had been, either. It justwas. A palpable thing that had seemed to hover between us now.
Dove swallowed and wiped her mouth with a napkin. “Good.” She took a sip of her coffee and I eyed it, making sure she didn’t need a refill. “Really good,” she admitted.
I wasn’t trying to wait on her like I was some maître d’, but ever since I’d returned, I’d been consumed with this need to take care of Dove—as if some instinct deep inside me recognized how badly I’d cocked up by leaving her and wanted to make up for lost time.
It was overwhelming and, considering Dove was still rightfully pissed at me, likely unwelcome. She knew where to aim if I grew too overbearing for her. I wouldn’t even try to dodge it; I more than deserved a swift kick to the balls.
“I guess you really did have to fend for yourself, huh?”
Her words had me lifting my gaze to her, but she was busy looking anywhere but at me. Her sharp words echoed in my head,I would imagine there are drawbacks to just up and leaving your family.
