Page 33 of Brambles and Bellflowers
“You know we can hear you, right?” Damen dropped a large pot onto the countertop. He pressed his hands onto the surface and glowered at Bryce. “That’s extremely rude. Don’t teach her your bad habits.”
Bryce and I shared another long glance, and this time, I knew we were on the same page.
The only bad habit here was Damen’s emotional instability. Think of how easily he could have just broken something.
“What are you doing?” Finn asked, still studying his brother.
“I’m getting everything together for Bianca. She is going to cook dinner since Colette kicked us out,” Damen replied, setting a jar of sauce next to the pot.
Finn frowned. “There’s a lot to digest in those statements,” he started cautiously, moving toward Damen. “But let’s begin with the simplest thing first. I’ll make dinner.” He reached for a wooden spoon that had been laid beside the pot.
“No.” Damen tugged the spoon out of Finn’s reach. “Bianca said she’ll do it.”
“ButIwant to do it.” Finn snapped forward, snatching the utensil before Damen could blink. “I’ve been wanting to make pasta for a while.”
“What are you talking about?” Damen narrowed his eyes and grabbed the end of the spoon, placing the two of them into a tug-of-war contest over the island counter. “Why are you trying to help now? You’ve never offered before. Go away, I want to eat Bianca’s cooking.”
“Just let me do it,” Finn grunted, glancing at me. “Bianca wants to take a bath before dinner anyway. She’s not feeling right.”
How dare he presume to tell me what to do?
Then again, now that he brought it up, the idea did have merit. Finn was a decent cook, and if he was offering…
“Okay.” I wrapped my arms over my stomach, not missing the way Finn glanced nervously in my direction.
If he was trying to placate me, it was working. After all, the man did know most of my weaknesses. And a nice bath bomb-assisted soak would be heavenly.
“What?” Damen let go of the spoon and looked at me. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m just tired,” I told him. It was true, too—but outside that, I had no way to describe this sullen, listless mood that’d taken over me lately.
“You’re tired?” Damen was there before I could blink and ushered me onto one of the barstools. He crowded in front of me, warm hands pressing over my cheeks and forehead. “Are you sick? Should I call Julian?”
“I’m fine.” It took both hands to restrain one of his, and I held on to his fingers, bringing his hand between us. “It’s just been a long week.”
“You’re really that worried about Miles?” he asked.
I blinked at him, brows furrowing. What kind of question was that?
Damen’s thick lips pressed into a line, his gray eyes holding mine. “Or is there something else bothering you?”
No, not really. Everything else was perfectly fine—why wouldn’t it be?
6
My bath helpedme feel a bit more human again, but the fog settling over my thoughts remained. I wasn’t sure why I was so bothered—why Miles’s absence weighed so heavily on me when everyone else seemed unconcerned.
I bit my lip as I towel dried my hair, the real problem becoming clearer. Everyone seemed to know more about Miles—aboutme—than I knew about myself.
Dr. Kohler had mentioned Officers studied our past lives, which meant there were books on the topic. Books that held answers about who I was, who I had been.
This passivity was suffocating. Being kept in the dark, having others make decisions about my life based on knowledge I didn’t have access to—it was driving me crazy. Even though I had lessons, it felt like I had a lifetime more knowledge to learn before being close to remotely prepared.
I wrapped my fuzzy pink robe around me and checked my phone. The usual check-in from Julian, Titus’s daily kawaii gif. Still nothing from Miles.
Not that I was honestly expecting anything.
There was no time to dwell on that, though. I had something to do.
