Kelly

I SHUFFLE INTO THE KITCHEN THE NEXT MORNING, the smell of frying bacon and brewing coffee luring me in. Patting my bare stomach, I take in the scene: my girl at the stove, a spatula in hand, dressed in only my green checkered flannel and mismatched fuzzy socks.

"Morning," I whisper into her ear as I crowd her from behind. "What are you making?"

There is a piece of bread sizzling in butter in a frying pan, and Sutton cracks an egg into the hole in the center of the bread. "Eggs in a basket," she answers, glancing at me over her shoulder. "My dad's Sunday morning specialty."

As she sprinkles a generous amount of salt and pepper over the egg, I slip my hands under her shirt, exploring her soft skin and curves. I palm her breasts, feeling the weight of them in my hands, but before I can take the exploration further, she steps out of my embrace. I tangle my hands in the soft fabric of the flannel, reeling her back in, and I laugh at the feisty look she directs my way, pointing the spatula at me.

"Nu uh, Kelly. Keep those hands to yourself. This is a science. I have to flip it at just the right time, or it's ruined."

She swats me with the plastic utensil to emphasize her point, and I back away, settling against the counter next to her. I steal a slice of bacon from a plate lined with napkins to soak up the grease, popping it into my mouth as I watch her gently slide the spatula under the bread in the pan experimentally.

On the surface, everything looks fine. A happy couple half-dressed making brunch the morning after a hot date. But I can't help but feel the differences from other Sunday mornings together. Instead of snuggling the morning away, Sutton made an early escape from the bed. I awoke alone, the strangest feeling gurgling in my stomach.

Instead of allowing me to spoil her, she's busying herself with tasks to spoil me. It feels more like a distraction ploy, though. A way to put distance between us.

She didn't even kiss me good morning. And I feel the absence of the greeting acutely.

I feel unsettled. And I don't fucking like it.

Just as I'm making myself a cup of coffee, she flips the bread with the egg in the middle onto a plate, tossing on a few strips of bacon, and sets it on a placement on the island. "Eat," she says, placing a fork and napkin next to the plate. Before she can walk away, though, I grab her wrist and twirl her to face me. She scans my face, avoiding directly looking into my eyes, and tries to wriggle free.

"Baby girl." My voice is low, rough, and I almost don't recognize it. Her eyes snap to mine, finally looking at me. "Hi."

She blanches; and I run my thumbs over the warmth of her cheeks. "Hi," she whispers.

"What's going on?"

At this, she looks away, pulling her bottom lip into her mouth. She knows her face always betrays her, broadcasting her every feeling, and I can see her try to school her expression. The feeling in my gut resembles a lead weight.

She shakes her head, briefly looking at me. "Nothing," she says, backing away. "Eat before it goes cold."

She busies herself at the stove, throwing another slice of bread into a sizzling pile of butter.

I sit on the stool and stare at the plate, my appetite suddenly gone, and I poke the egg with a fork, watching the yellow of the yoke ooze out onto the toasted bread. I force myself to take a few bites, washing it down with coffee, but I barely taste either.

As I'm eating the last bits of the breakfast, Sutton sinks into the stool next to me, her attention on her plate. I suppress my groan of irritation, opting instead to give her the space she's obviously desperate for.

Fucking Jensen and Teddy with their stupid appearance yesterday. Nothing has been right since then. This feels a lot like the beginning of the end—one way or another.

Fuck, I silently scream as I carry my plate to the sink. When Sutton's head darts up, I fear I've screamed it out loud.

"What was that?"

"Huh?" I stare at her, my beautiful girlfriend.

Then I hear it. A car door slamming, a dark yapping, and finally knocking at the door.

Our wide eyes meet, both of us momentarily frozen, before we take action. Sutton gets to her feet as I round the counter to meet her. "Upstairs," I whisper, my hands a firm grip on her upper arms.

She blinks at me a few times, her wide blue eyes already pooling with moisture. Shoving me away, she storms up the stairs on silent feet and I let out a stream of curses in my head as I walk through my house to see who the hell showed up unannounced on a Sunday morning.

I already know who it is before I open the door, though, and a huge part of me wants to ignore the guest. Pretend I'm not home. Pray he'll go away. But of course he won't. He's most likely here because of our awkward run-in yesterday. It feels inevitable.

I take a big breath before I open the door, and I let it out as I stare at my best friend and his dog on my stoop.

"Nice pumpkins," Jensen says, using his foot to keep Scout from chewing on the stems.

"Uh, thanks," I manage to choke out. "What's up? Did we have plans I forgot about?" I ask already knowing the answer.

"Nah," he says, grabbing the back of his neck. "I just thought we could go for a hike."

"You did or your girl did? Is this Teddy's way of setting us up on a bro date?"

He laughs, pushing around me to enter the house, walking through the mud room to the open expanse of the lower level. Scout's yapping wakes Lexi, and she ambles in from her sleeping spot on the couch to greet the small dog. We watch as they sniff each other's butts, the awkwardness thick in the air.

Jensen spots the dirty dishes on the counter in the kitchen, two placemats innocently sitting side by side. "Do you have company? Am I interrupting something? Oh shit, is your girl here?"

"My girl?" I ask, my voice squeaking, my pits perspiring, as he looks around as if searching for a missing person.

"You know," he says in a hushed voice, "the one you've been hinting about."

"What now?"

"And I'm not dumb, Kell. You're barely ever around. You're less grumpy. You even smile sometimes. You're obviously getting laid regularly at the very least." He smirks as he leans against the counter, folding his arms across his chest.

"Fuck off," I grumble, self-consciously clearing off Sutton's plate and stacking it on top of mine in the sink.

"She's here, though, right?" He chuckles when I shoot him a warning glare. "Fuck, you're hiding her? For real? From me?"

I scrub a hand over my face, hating this conversation. Hating everything right now, in fact. "We're keeping it low key for now," I say in way of explanation.

His brows shoot up. "Is it someone I know?"

"I plead the Fifth."

Jensen studies me, and I can feel the sweat trickle down my armpits, but I don't look away. Finally, he pushes off the counter. "Fine. Keep your secrets. But I think you're being really fucking weird."

"Yeah, yeah. Noted."

I follow him back through the house to the front door. He yells for his dog, and Scout and Lexi come trotting toward us. I watch as my best friend and his dog walk out of my house, and I get another twinge of the familiar dread.

Just as Jensen opens the passenger side door of his truck to let Scout in, he turns back to me. "What was that yesterday anyway? In Maybury. That was fucking weird too."

He doesn't stop for my answer, though. He circles around the front of the truck, crawls into the driver seat and speeds away.

I close the door, cross the room, and bang my head against the wall by the stairs, barely containing the growl working its way up my throat. I feel like throwing something. Breaking something. Doing anything to let this anger and frustration out.

At the sound of soft feet on the stairs, I look up to find a fully dressed Sutton framed in the stairwell. Immediately, I move to block her exit, trapping her on the stairs.

"Move, Kelly." Her voice is hard, drenched in too many emotions to pinpoint a single one.

When I don't budge, she shoves her small hands into my bare chest. I barely move. She tries again, this time releasing a puff of breath that feels like a silent scream. Her face is dotted with red splotches, tear tracks dried on her cheeks.

The sight decimates me, yet I still don't give her room to leave. Instead, I invade her space. "You can't leave like this, baby girl."

Folding her arms across her chest, she glares at me. "Like what?"

"All pissed off."

When she tries to move past me again, I lock her in place with my hands on her hips. Since she's on the stairs, we're eye level, and I can see the turmoil in the sea of blue, tears pooling, teetering on the verge of spilling.

"Kelly, just stop. Let me go be pissed at home."

I tighten my grip on her hips, my fingers digging into her flesh as if my touch alone could prevent whatever this is from happening. "Don't be a brat, Sutton. If you have something to say, just say it."

"I don't have anything to say." Her resolve is ironclad. I don't stand a chance against this. I know it. She knows it. Yet I still don't relent.

"Bullshit. We don't lie to each other."

She laughs, and the mirthless sound is like a punch to the gut. "Just to everyone else then?"

"I didn't lie to Jensen."

"Maybe not directly!" she yells, her voice scratchy. "But we're basically living a lie in this make-believe world."

I rear back, her words cutting deep. "What the fuck, Sutton? You think it's make-believe?"

"I'm your dirty secret, Kelly." And there she goes, continuing to slice at me with her words.

"Don't say shit like that, Sutton. You know it's not true." I can hear the hurt in my voice, but I don't even bother to cover it up.

"Then why did you hide me? It made me feel dirty. Used. Cheap. Unworthy. Gross." Her words become softer as she speaks until the last one is practically a whisper.

"Fuck, baby girl! It's not like that. You know it's not like that."

"It felt like that to me."

I look at her, my eyes pleading, and I try to cup her cheek, but she pulls away from me, denying my touch.

"Please let me go, Kelly."

"Go?" I ask in a panic. "As in, leave right now? Or like we're done?"

She shakes her head as if she doesn't know herself what she means. "I don't want to be done, Kelly." I can see the truth of it on her face, her warring emotions speaking louder than any words. "But I don't know if I can be your secret anymore either. I want more. I want to be able to hold hands walking through town. Kiss you whenever the fuck I want. Let the whole damn world know that you're mine." My declaration from yesterday echoed back to me.

I reach for her again and she allows it this time. With my big hands dwarfing her face, I hold on for dear life. "You know I want that, too, baby girl. So fucking bad."

"Then let's do it."

"It's not that simple. You know it's not that simple," I reply, desperation coating my words.

"Maybe not. But fuck simple. Fuck simple, Kelly. I want more. I deserve more."

She swipes my hands off her face, the tears finally falling, and I let her walk past me through the house. Before she can leave, I yell for her to stop. I meet her at the door and place a soft kiss on her lips.

"You're right," I say with my forehead pressed to hers. "You deserve more. You deserve every single fucking thing. Let me figure it out. I need to talk to Jensen first."

She nods but it's without conviction—her doubt a visceral thing. She wraps her arms around my waist, resting her head on my naked chest. The hug feels sad. Instead of comfort, it stokes the desperation already sizzling beneath the surface.

When she pulls away, she asks, "Should we do it together?"

I shake my head. "It's something I have to do by myself." I stroke my thumbs over her damp cheeks, my eyes zeroed in on hers. "Give me a little time. Please, baby girl."

She blinks, once, twice, and then nods before pulling out of my arms and walking out the door.