Page 89 of Hide Little Traitor

Iwince as I move around the kitchen with an ease I’ve missed.

This used to be my haven, and I didn’t realize how much I had been craving normality.

It’s been weeks since I’ve cooked a real meal, and after everything these men have done for me, I want to do something for them, even if that’s just making them pancakes because that’s all I can make with the ingredients in the pantry.

I slept wedged between Ronan and Ryker again, their warmth making it almost impossible to drag myself out of bed, but my screaming bladder was enough to get me up.

The cabin is still warm from the fire we had burning last night as I whisk the batter and wait for the pan to heat up.

Up until recently, I’d made this same breakfast every day for years. It was John’s favorite, and Camilla has always had a sweet tooth, making it the perfect option to satisfy everyone.

I’ve barely had a chance to miss those simple mornings with just the three of us around the table.

Speaking to her last night helped settle some of the lingering worries after her kidnapping, but I won’t feel completely at ease until I see that she’s recovering for myself.

The problem is, until we figure out who is hunting us, we’re stuck here in this cabin.

A door opens across from me, and I glance up just in time to meet icy blue pools before he averts them.

“Good morning,” I say evenly, turning toward the pan to melt some butter before giving the batter one last whisk.

“Morning,” he mutters.

“There’s coffee in the pot, and pancakes will be ready shortly.”

Having my back to him makes the hair at the back of my neck stand on end, because although I would like to think he’s not going to hurt me, I know better than to look away from the most dangerous person in the room.

His footsteps fill the otherwise quiet cabin, and my chest tightens with each step he takes closer.

A mug slides across the counter, and I glance over at him as the first pancakes begin to bubble, only to find him watching me with too much intensity.

Refusing to be the first to look away for once, I hold his gaze for long seconds, neither of us saying anything before he finally looks away to pour his coffee.

I busy myself flipping the pancakes in the pan, a soft smirk tugging at my lips.

At this point I have to believe he doesn’t want me dead. Not when he helped Ronan escape with me and then proceeded to take a bullet for me.

But I also never thought he would break our friendship the way he did, and he didn’t hesitate to do that.

“I can change the dressing on your arm today if you want,” I offer, dropping a fresh nob of butter into the pan and sliding fresh pancakes across the counter to him.

“I’ve got it.”

“Okay.”

The plate disappears, and a moment later I hear it being placed on the dining table where all the toppings are already lined up.

There wasn’t much, but some syrup and butter is all anyone really needs on their pancakes.

“You used to be a shit cook,” he comments. “Remember that time you almost poisoned Ronan and me?”

I roll my eyes. “I did not almost poison you. Don’t be so dramatic.”

“What else would you call serving us chicken that was still raw in the middle?” He chuckles around a mouthful of pancakes, and for a moment, I’m struck by how handsome he is.

After years of his cruelty, I’d all but forgotten how good-looking he is when he smiles.

“It wasn’t that bad,” I argue, shaking myself off.