Page 17 of Find Me
My brows tried to reach my hairline. “Oh, that’s okay. I know you don’t—”
“I wouldn’t have offered,” he snapped.
The thought of hanging out with Creed, my neighbor who may or may not have liked me, sounded slightly more appealing than being alone right now. I took a step back, opening the door wider for him to come in.
He stepped inside, eyes wandering as he took in my living room. I closed the door and moved toward the kitchen. “I’m going to make some coffee. Would you like some?”
“Yeah.” He followed me into the kitchen and took a seat on one of the two bar stools I had bought for my kitchen island.
I turned on my coffee maker and it began gurgling. As it brewed, I went over to my fridge and started pulling eggs, cheese, and sausage patties out. I glanced over my shoulder at Creed, who was silently watching me. “Do you like breakfast sandwiches?”
“Yes.”
I piled everything on the counter next to the stove and bent over to grab some pans from the lower cabinet.
“Nice PJs.”
I was wearing silk Batman pajamas. The shirt was a solid black crop top with a large yellow Batman logo on the front and the bottoms were high-waisted shorts that were patterned with the same Batman logo and had yellow drawstrings.
I set the pans on the stove. “Who doesn’t love Batman?”
I caught his small smile before I went back over to the coffee pot and poured some into a mug for him. “Cream and sugar?” I asked as I set the mug in front of him.
“Black is fine,” he said, scooping it up to take a sip.
I made myself a cup of coffee with cream and went back to work on breakfast. I decided to make enough sandwiches for Creed’s brothers, too. We didn’t talk much. Just hung out in comfortable silence.
After giving him his sandwich and sitting down next to him at the island, I watched him dig in. He took a big bite and his brows lifted as he chewed. He gave me a nod of approval and I beamed, happy that he liked it.
“Do you like cooking?” he asked.
I chuckled at the random question. “I do.”
“You smile as you cook.”
Huh.I hadn’t known I did that. “My mom was a chef,” I admitted, and when I didn’t become overwhelmed with sadness, I decided to continue on. “As far back as I can remember, she would drag me and my sister into the kitchen with her so she could show us a new recipe. My sister hated it. I loved it. To me, my mom’s passion for food was contagious.”
“Do you want to become a chef like your mom?”
“I used to.”
“What changed your mind?”
I stilled as I was bringing my sandwich up to take a bite. How could I answer that without lying? It had been stupid of me to bring up my mom in the first place, but it felt really nice to talk about her. I set the sandwich back down to my plate as I debated how to respond.
“If you don’t want to answer, you don’t have to.” His tone was nonchalant. His eyes told me different. They thankfully didn’t hold any pity. That was the last thing I wanted. In his blue depths I saw understanding. Seeing that eased my nerves and it made it a little easier to find the answer to his question.
“My family is gone,” I said in a low voice. “And with them, my dreams and passions. It wasn’t until recently that I started reintroducing myself to the things I used to love, like cooking and baking. I find that I still enjoy doing them, but it’s not the same. I mean, what’s the point in trying a new recipe when I have no one to share it with?”
Creed was quiet for a while and I was beginning to think I’d made him feel awkward. “The weight of their absence will get lighter over time,” he said. “And you won’t always be alone, Shiloh.”
I nodded, not trusting my voice, and finally took a bite of my sandwich.
As soon as I was finished eating, I put together the breakfast sandwiches for Creed’s brothers and packaged them up in foil for him to carry back to his house.
“Thank you,” I said as I walked him out.
“I think I’m supposed to thank you,” he said, holding up a wrapped sandwich.
