Chapter 27
Kinsley
Chapter Twenty-Seven
This time when I woke, the bed was empty beside me. I put my pajama top and shorts back on and went into the guest room to change. The house was silent around me, and for a moment, my chest tightened at the thought of being alone—here—but then I smelled something delicious coming up from the kitchen, giving away that someone else had to be here. I quickly changed into jeans and a white crop top and hurried down the stairs.
I hid my shock when I realized it was Thomas standing at the stove looking busy. His back was to me, so I let myself have a moment of admiration. He was wearing a black T-shirt, which stretched on his upper back, with light-washed jeans that made his ass look way better than mine and I sighed jealously.
“What are you making?” I asked, walking up to him.
“Omelet. I thought you would be hungry,” he answered without turning around to face me.
I froze. Did he really just make an omelet for me? A smile formed on my lips, and I turned my head away to look around. “Where’s Connor?” I asked, gazing out the window at the empty lake surrounded by the pine forest. It was still sunny outside, so at least I hadn’t slept all day. From that thought, I suddenly realized I forgot about our plans for today. “Did I miss the visit to the library?” I asked, straightening up with a worried look on my face.
Thomas turned around and leaned against the kitchen counter next to the oven. That’s when I noticed the kitchen rag thrown over his shoulder.
“Connor went into town, Kevin came to pick him up,” he explained, crossing his arms over his chest. “And no, you did not.” I let out a relieved sigh.
“Are they on a date?” I asked, and he shrugged.
“I guess.” He took the pan off the stove, and I watched him put the omelet onto two clean plates, before turning around and placing one down in front of me.
“Thank you.” I inhaled the steam and my mouth watered. “Fuck.” A moan fell from my lips before I could stop it, and Thomas lifted a brow. “Smells delicious.” I cleared my throat and he smirked.
We both sat down at the kitchen island, and I was about to consume the whole thing in one bite when?—
“Your mother called this morning,” Thomas said, and my eyes widened, the fork stopping midway to my mouth. “My father didn’t come home for four days, and she started to worry,” he explained, and I frowned.
“Are you surprised because my father’s a no-show or because your mother noticed it?”
I snorted. “Touché. Why did she call you?” I asked, and he shrugged.
“She hoped I knew where he was.” He made a face, and I let out a small laugh.
A warm feeling filled my chest as a memory from last year surfaced in my head. Thomas and I made up a little game we played between classes where we competed with each other with terrible stories from our childhoods. That’s how I learned that one time Josh threw a glass at him, which luckily missed and hit the wall next to his head instead. Or how he left for two weeks without a word when Thomas was fourteen and Connor was only twelve. And there was one really disturbing story. Thomas was eighteen when Josh found a bottle of gin that had a sip missing from it. He made Thomas drink the rest of the bottle as punishment. In. One. Sitting. My stomach turned even just thinking about it.
“So, what did you tell her?” I asked.
“Connor called him, and he said his business trip got dragged out. So I told your mother that he will probably be home in a few days, but—my father is a manipulator,” he pointed out the obvious. “He will manipulate your mother until she lets him,” he added.
“I wouldn’t worry about my mom.” I shoved the fork into my mouth, releasing a low moan. “Oh god.” I felt the mix of grilled vegetables, cheese, and egg explode in my mouth. “This is the best omelet I have ever had.” I glanced at Thomas and found him biting down a grin. I swallowed the bite and cleared my throat. “She doesn’t have the emotional capacity to be manipulated.”
He leaned back with a smile.
“Did she mention me?” I looked down at my plate, narrowing my eyes at the food.
“You want to win so bad.” Thomas laughed, and I darted my head toward him. So he, too, remembered our game. A smile curled on my lips as I looked at him. He looked so different, so much happier here than back in the city.
“Okay, I will let you have this one,” he added, and I bowed my head.
“Is that twenty-seven to six for you?” I asked, and he smiled, taking a bite from his food.
There was a moment of silence between us while we ate, and then?—
“You know, there’s nothing wrong with being angry at her.”
I took a long time swallowing my food, having no idea what to say. Was I angry? I felt disappointed for years, but?—
I shook my head and pressed my lips into a thin line. This felt different. I was upset at her for so long, but then I realized she was a hardworking, single mother; it wasn’t easy for her, so I just…let it go. We both lived our lives differently, and that was okay. She made her choice, and I will make mine.