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“You think so?”
She stabbed a strawberry slice and brought it to her mouth, turning her blue-green eyes on me. “Don’t you know? I’m always right.”
A breath huffed out of me, and a hint of a smile tugged at my lips. “Like you were about how long to boil the eggs yesterday?”
Her eyes grew to the size of half-dollar coins and she pointed her fork at my face. “We agreed we weren’t going to speak about that.”
Laughter rolled through me. I grabbed her wrist, then snagged the fork out of her hand, putting it out of reach. “No, you demanded I never say a word about it, and I didn’t respond because I was trying not to puke.”
Kelly’s face turned slightly green and she gagged like she, too, was going to throw up. “That smell.”
“Says the girl who stood watching from the doorway as I scraped fragments of egg off the ceiling for an hour.”
She lifted her nose in the air, refusing to look at me. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Mmmhmm.” She’d tried to make hard boiled eggs, only to forget about them as they cooked on the stove. The water evaporated and the little fuckers exploded shit all over. “I found a glob on top of the fridge this morning.”
She gagged again, but that gagging turned to laughter. “Your face.”
“What’s that?”
“You should have seen your face.” She studied me, and it had to be the first time since my cuts had healed that she’d looked at me this close. My cheeks heated under her attention. “I’ve never seen anyone so… horrified in my life.”
“I’ve never seen someone so willing to watch someone else clean up.”
She scoffed but didn’t reply.
“Back when I was a kid, my parents would have whipped my ass—”
“Wow.” She drew the word out, effectively cutting me off. “I didn’t realize you were so old. Let me guess, you had to walk five miles to school and back every day, uphill both ways, no matter what the weather?”
Her smile was crooked but enchanting. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her lips. “I am old.”
“How old are you, anyway?”
“Old enough.”
“To be my grandpa?” Her smile grew more crooked, her eyes wide with mischief.
“You’re nothin’ but trouble. A young little troublemaker.”
She pulled a face, throwing her voice as she said, “Eh, you young little whipper snapper.”
“Wow.” I repeated her long, drawn-out word. “That is… somethin’.”
Kelly’s smile faded, her eyes less mischievous as she turned her gaze to her wrist.
I was still holding it in my hand, unconsciously rubbing my thumb along her smooth, creamy skin. I stopped. Forced myself to let go. Watched with my heart in my throat, wondering if this was going to set her back.
She’d made so much progress over the past two weeks. No longer shying away from me every time I was in the room. We ate every meal together. She no longer sat in the far corner of the couch when I sat on the floor on the other side.
She was starting to trust me. Trust that I wasn’t going to hurt her. That I would take care of her and all her needs.
Kelly rubbed her palms over her thighs before curling her fingers into the fabric of her sweatpants. “So. Um.”
Sitting back in my chair, I wiped a hand across my mouth. “You done eating?”
She side-eyed me, her brow arching up. “Apparently. You stole my fork.”
