A whole plate of roasted meat, veggies, sausage, and eggs sat in front of me. I just stared at it for a while, like I couldn't quite believe it was real. And even harder to believe, who it came from. Not just anyone. Him.
The guy I never thought would lift a finger for someone else, let alone cook.
I expected him to open his mouth, throw out some snide remark, maybe start ranting again about mates and destiny like he did this morning. That crap always grated on me. But nope. He just set the plate down, didn't say a word, and walked back to the kitchen.
From where I sat, I could hear the coffee machine kick on. The smell of freshly ground beans filled the room, cutting through the weird tension hanging in the air. He stood with his back to me, like he was deliberately shutting me out. No questions. No conversation. Just silence, stretching between us like a rubber band about to snap.
