Page 69 of His Reckoning

“That look means something.”

“It doesn’t.”

“It absolutely does.”

He shakes his head once, like he’s dismissing the thought entirely. Then he grabs the ice cream and puts it back in the freezer.

“Good night, Kayla.”

I blink. “That’s it?”

“Yes.”

“You’re just ending the conversation?”

“I have work tomorrow.”

“Coward.”

He pauses at the doorway. “You ask too many questions.”

I grin. “And yet you keep answering them.”

He doesn’t respond to that, just disappears down the hallway.

A moment later, I hear his bedroom door close.

I stand here in the kitchen for another minute before I grab the carton from the freezer and shake my head.

“Well,” I mutter to myself, “that was interesting.”

I take another bite of ice cream.

This apartment is becoming a very bad idea.

Chapter Twelve

Sawyer

By the end of the week, I’ve learned something about Kayla—she forgets to eat. Not completely, but enough that it’s noticeable.

Most mornings, she wanders into the kitchen sometime after I’ve already been awake for about an hour, makes herself coffee, and then disappears into the living room with her laptop.

Sometimes, she eats a piece of toast or nothing at all. Then she spends the next four hours typing like she’s in a race with the keyboard.

Which shouldn’t matter to me nearly as much as it apparently does.

I make myself a cup of coffee and lean against the counter, staring at the refrigerator like it’s responsible for this situation … because, technically, it is.

The apartment is quiet this early. The sun is just starting to come through the windows.

Kayla’s door is still closed down the hallway.

She was up late again last night. Typing, deleting, then typing again. I know this because the living room lights were still on when I went to bed and again when I got up.

Which means she probably fell asleep on the couch with her laptop open.

I take another drink of coffee, then open the refrigerator and gaze at the eggs, bacon, fruit, and bread. All perfectly normal breakfast ingredients.