Page 10 of Jagged Burn
Chapter Seven
Almost Isn’t Enough
Stefan Grey
I’m pacing my own damn living room like a caged animal.
Anna’s laughter drifts down the hallway—light, almost hesitant, but it’s there.She’s on the phone with her mom.I only catch snippets, but the sound twists my gut.She’s trying so damn hard to act normal when nothing about this situation is normal.And I’m a wreck.
I can’t stop thinking about the way she looked at me this morning when I handed her the mug of coffee.Like I wasn’t a monster.Like I wasn’t the guy with half a melted face who avoids mirrors because they just confirm what the rest of the world sees.
She doesn’t flinch.She doesn’t look away.And it scares the hell out of me.
When she pads into the living room, barefoot and drowning in nothing but my damn t-shirt, I nearly lose my grip on the beer bottle in my hand.My shirt hangs off her shoulder, exposing smooth skin.Her hair’s in a messy bun, strands falling around her face, and she looks like she belongs here.Even bruised up she is still more beautiful and sensual than any woman I have ever met.That thought alone is enough to make me choke.
“You’re pacing holes in the carpet,” she says, plopping onto the couch.“Sit down before I have to call the landlord and explain why there’s a Stefan-shaped groove in the floorboards.”
I grunt, forcing myself into the armchair opposite her.“Don’t have a landlord.I own the house.”
“Even better.You’ll just be the crazy guy with the uneven living room.”
Her sarcasm slices through the heaviness, like it always used to when we were kids.And God help me, I love it.
“Are you hungry?”I ask, desperate for a distraction.
“Starving.But if you’re about to suggest pizza, I’ll fight you.I’ve eaten more greasy cheese in the last year than any human should.”
I lift a brow.“What’s wrong with pizza?”
“Nothing,” she says with a shrug.“Except everything.”
Despite myself, I chuckle.“Fine.Burgers?”
“Better.But only if you make them.”
“You’re still so damn bossy.”
Her eyes glint.“Get used to it.”
I shake my head, but I head into the kitchen anyway.Cooking isn’t my strong suit, but I can grill a burger.As I shape the patties, I feel her presence before I hear her.She’s leaning against the counter, watching me.
“What?”I ask, not looking up.
“Nothing,” she says too quickly.
