Chapter 12 #2
Before she knew it, tears fell faster while she stood over a stove trying to recreate something that died with her mama.
“I can’t even get this right,” she cried softly, as her voice cracked. “I can’t…”
Emotions all over the place, Cyren laughed softly. She was embarrassed despite being alone.
“This is stupid,” she muttered, wiping at her face with the back of her hand. “Why are you crying over pancakes?”
It wasn’t just about the pancakes.
It never was. She knew that. Her body knew that too, and it always reminded her.
Grief magnified small failures, turning them into overwhelming challenges.
It was unpredictable, appearing wherever it wanted to.
In Cyren’s eyes, Nicole handled everything effortlessly.
Love and motherhood seemed like second nature to her.
Even grief might have felt less harsh if Nicole had lived longer for her daughter to see it.
Cyren hated herself a little for not remembering every detail. She hated that time kept moving while memories blurred around the edges. By the time she poured the third pancake, her vision was blurry.
“None of these are right,” she cried, ready to throw them away. Or against the wall.
None of them being made correctly shouldn’t have mattered, but it did.
Because her mama’s always came out perfect, with crispy edges while being fluffy in the middle.
Her grief had stolen the moment, and no matter how hard she tried, she’d spend the rest of her life chasing fragments of her mother in ordinary moments.
Whimpering with her chest hiccupping, Cyren didn’t notice Heavy entering the kitchen.
“Baby.”
That one word almost made her lose it all over again. Cyren didn’t turn around immediately because she thought maybe if she got herself together fast enough, he wouldn’t notice. She underestimated him. His voice reached her before his touch did.
“Why you in here crying? What happened?”
She closed her eyes tightly, and the worry in his voice made new tears appear.
Cyren quickly sniffled and focused hard on removing the sausage. “Nothing. I’m okay.”
“No, you’re not. Talk to me. What happened?”
Cyren stared at the spatula in her hand because looking at him right now wasn’t the safest thing to do.
“I wanted to make breakfast,” she whispered.
His brow slightly furrowed. “I see,” he said, gently taking in everything.
“And...” She laughed shakily, embarrassed. “These stupid pancakes didn’t come out like hers.”
Heavy understood quicker than most people would’ve. His shoulders dropped slightly, and his chest tightened.
“Your mama’s?” he softly asked.
Cyren finally glanced his way with her bottom lip unintentionally poked out and nodded. “She used to make them all the time, and I can’t… I don’t know. I can’t get them right.”
Heavy didn’t respond right away, and she appreciated that he didn’t rush to break the silence or fill it with empty words in an attempt to fix something neither of them could.
Instead, he reached around her and turned the burner off. Cyren hated how exposed she felt standing there in his clothes, crying over memories.
“I know I look so crazy right now,” she mumbled.
“No, you don’t.”
His answer came quickly, confidently, as if he needed her to believe him.
His hands carefully settled against her waist before turning her toward him.
Cyren looked down immediately. Heavy’s fingers slid beneath her chin and gently lifted her face.
His thumb wiped away a tear before it could reach her jaw.
His tenderness shattered any remaining strength she had.
New tears began to flow. Experiencing tenderness after surviving in survival mode can feel unimaginable.
“It’s a’ight,” he said in a soothing tone.
Her mouth trembled.
“No, it’s not. I should know how to make them. I watched her do it for years. It’s like I’m forgetting the small things about her, and I hate it.”
Heavy wiped away the liquid as if it were nothing, as if her tears weren’t a bother. “You know what I think?” he asked.
Cyren shook her head.
“I think grief be making people feel guilty over shit they ain’t supposed to. Shit they can’t control.”
Her brows dipped, urging him to continue.
“You missing her doesn’t mean you forgot her,” he softly continued. “And messing up pancakes don’t erase all them mornings you had with her.”
Hearing that hurt. Not because he was wrong, but because there was truth behind his statement. Cyren’s face folded before she could stop it. The ugly kind of crying threatened to appear, and she hated that he was seeing this version of her again.
Heavy kissed her forehead before pulling back enough to look at her. “It’s okay to cry, Pooh. Don’t feel silly about that.”
Cyren sniffled. “Okay.”
“Plus...” Heavy added, smirking. It wouldn’t be like him if he didn’t lighten the moment.
Cyren’s wet lashes fluttered. “What?”
“I like my pancakes a lil’ burnt anyway. I was still gon’ eat ‘em.”
A laugh escaped her before she could stop it. Heavy smiled, loving how he could put a smile on her face. He hated to see her cry.
“There she go,” he murmured.
Cyren shook her head while wiping beneath her eyes. “You’re so annoying.”
“I know.” He smirked and scooted her to the side. “Now c’mon.”
Her brows lifted. “What?”
“We gon’ try again. I know you can make them. Grab the vegetable oil from the cabinet. That’s probably what you were missing.”
Cyren watched as he washed his hands, then reached for the bowl. She was genuinely in awe, feeling vulnerable in the presence of the shirtless man in his kitchen at just nine in the morning, taking over pancake duties because she missed her mama.
Something in her chest ached even more fiercely as she realized that people like Heavy were genuinely dangerous, just as she had always suspected.
It wasn’t because they could cause her physical harm, but because they had a way of convincing her that staying put, dwelling on the what-if, might actually be safe. Only time would tell.
The next batch of pancakes turned out better. They weren’t exactly like Nicole’s, but they were edible. Heavy still ate one of the darker ones, and Cyren made sure to add extra cheese to his eggs. While she finished drinking her juice, Heavy cleaned up the kitchen.
“Mm. That was so good,” Cyren said, sitting back in her chair.
Heavy licked his lips that reminded him of her; sweet and fulfilling. “It was. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Next time, you’re cooking.”
They chuckled. Heavy didn’t mind that. He’d cooked for her before and would for as long as she let him.
“I got you. What you wanna do today?” he asked, rinsing one of the plates.
Right now, she wanted a nap. The food had given her the itis that quickly. Cyren yawned, covering her mouth. “It doesn’t matter. I do wanna lay down for like thirty minutes, though.”
Heavy looked at her. “Thirty?”
“Mhm.” She nodded, seriously. “Maybe an hour.”
“That sounds more believable.”
“Why? You have plans?” she asked.
If he did, so did she. Cyren was feeling more clingy than usual as she stood to wrap her arms around his waist. Resting her head against his strong back, she soaked in his warmth. Instinctively, Heavy’s hand rubbed her arm.
“A few. Got some errands to run and gotta pick up your gift.”
Her head sprang up, and she tried maneuvering around to face him, but Heavy held her in place.
“What you doing?” He laughed as she struggled to break free.
“You got me something?”
The way she said it made him laugh. Not because she sounded ungrateful, but because she sounded genuinely confused.
“Yeah.”
“For what?”
Heavy frowned slightly, like the answer should’ve been obvious. “‘Cause I wanted to.”
Cyren was silent for a few seconds. Everything he’d been doing since day one was because he wanted to for her. It was that simple.
“Oh. Okay. Well, what is it?” she asked, now grinning even though he couldn’t see her. He could hear it all in her voice, though.
“It’s a—”
He stopped himself from revealing what the gift was.
Though he loved surprising people, Heavy was the type who bought a gift and told the person what it was before he could give it to them.
Cyren should’ve been used to receiving things from him by now, but it was clear she needed another lesson in acceptance.
“It’s a what?” she queried, highly interested.
“You’ll see when we get to the mall.”
Smiling, Cyren slid her hands inside his shorts. Her hand brushed against his finely trimmed pubic hair before gripping his dick. It took nothing for him to become hard and lengthen under her touch.
“Can I see something else before then?”
She asked so politely while stroking him, Heavy could only nod.
Turning around, he lowered his shorts while she tried to lower herself to the ground.
Before she could, he gripped her face and gave her two kisses.
Permission granted, she eagerly squatted and gripped the base of his dick before twirling her tongue around the tip.
Cyren eagerly worked her saliva along his shaft before fully taking him into her mouth.
Her head moved rhythmically as she stretched her jaws to fit him.
It was difficult, but she’d never been one to give up easily.
Relaxing her throat, she moved her neck skillfully while gripping his thigh with her left hand, while her right hand helped maintain a steady slurp and stroke.
“Sss. Fuck!” Heavy hissed, looking down at her.
His low grunts and groans and the intensity in his eyes only made Cyren go harder.
Her mouth got wetter the more vocal he was.
Gripping her head, Heavy widened his stance.
Nastily, Cyren let him fuck her mouth. The gagging sounds she made as he touched the back of her throat made his nostrils flare.
“Mmmhmm. Open that pretty mouth, baby. Yeeeah... that’s it. Shit!”