Page 110 of Almost Ours
Connor groaned dramatically, sliding the tray toward him. “They’re… edible?”
Ryan eyed the tray. “You could use them as hockey pucks.”
I bit back another laugh, grabbing a dish towel and started to wipe down the flour-covered counter. “I’ll make a fresh batch. I need to bring them to Benny tomorrow. Maybe without the fire hazard this time.”
Ryan stepped beside me, taking the towel from my hands and tossing it over his shoulder. “Or…” His voice dipped, teasing, “we could just order cinnamon buns and call it a day.”
I rolled my eyes, but my pulse skipped when his hand brushed mine on the counter. It was a small thing–light, casual–yet enough to spark that familiar, unsettling warmth low in my stomach.
Connor was already in the living room, sifting through his LEGO bin, leaving us alone in the kitchen.
Ryan leaned a hip against the counter so our arms were almost touching. That slow, crooked grin tugged at his mouth. “We make a good team,” he murmured, his voice lower now. “Even when we nearly burn your house down.”
I laughed softly, glancing up at him, and immediately regretted it–because those blue eyes were locked on mine, and suddenly the air between us felt charged, magnetic. His hand found the edge of the counter beside me, caging me in just enough to make my breath hitch.
He leaned in, close enough that I caught the faint scent of his cologne, my gaze dropping instinctively to his mouth–
“Mom! Ryan!” Connor’s voice rang out from the living room.
We both froze, then stepped back at the same time, the spell broken.
“We need to add more chocolate chips next time!”
Ryan gave a quick shake of his head, then leaned just close enough for his breath to brush my ear.
“I’ll come over tonight,” he whispered, his voice low and certain. “After he’s asleep.”
And then he pulled away, leaving me gripping the counter like it was the only thing keeping me upright.
The house was finally quiet.
Upstairs, Connor and Liam were sprawled across Connor’s bed, a tangle of blankets and limbs after a night of whispered jokes and too many snacks. Their soft, uneven snores drifted faintly down the stairs.
After Ryan left earlier–still grinning about our baking fiasco–Nina had stopped by with Liam in tow. She lingered in the doorway just long enough to ask if he could spend the night, lowering her voice to admit she had a date. I’d just smiled and waved them inside, no questions asked.
Now, I sat curled up on the couch, a blanket tucked over my legs and a half-full glass of wine in hand. The TV was on but muted, casting a warm glow across the room. Somewhere in the background, the dishwasher hummed, the sound steady and soothing, broken only by the occasional creak of the house settling.
It was the kind of quiet that felt earned–like the whole place had exhaled with me after a long, full day.
I closed my eyes for a moment, letting my shoulders drop.
And then–
A rustle.
Soft. Quick. Outside.
My eyes snapped open.
I sat up a little straighter, heart skipping. It could’ve been the wind or a raccoon. Probably was. I didn’t move, didn’t breathe, just listened.
There it was again. Closer this time.
A chill climbed my spine as I slowly set down my glass. My eyes darted to the front window, but I couldn’t see anything in the dark. I reached for my phone, already imagining the worst–Was someone out there? Had he found us?
My fingers fumbled over the lock screen, but instead of dialling anyone, I saw a new message waiting. Twenty minutes old.
Ryan: Boys asleep? On my way over!
