I didn’t know how he could sleep through the noise I made in the kitchen each morning, but I figured it was because he was simply dog-tired. He’d gotten here late last night after closing down the bar.
I’d opted for a night at home instead of keeping him company, and I’d been surprised that he’d had to stay until closing for an early-October Thursday. When I’d called down to the bar to check on him around midnight, he’d told me there’d been a group of bow hunters who’d come in looking to unwind after a long, unsuccessful week of hiking in the mountains. I’d been dead to the world when he’d climbed into bed sometime around three.
Luckily, neither of us had anywhere to be this morning so we’d slept in and were having a late breakfast.
I took the final pieces of french toast out of the pan and shut off the stove. Then I gathered it all up and took it into the living room, setting our food on the coffee table, which doubled as my dining room. I settled into the couch next to Jackson and served him up five pieces.
I’d made ten because I knew he’d be hungry. That, and because I still hadn’t figured out exactly the right egg-to-bread ratio for two people.
“Well?” I asked after he’d slathered his toast in butter and syrup and shoved a huge bite in his mouth. “What do you think?”
He grinned, his mouth full as he spoke. “Love it.”
“Good.” I smiled, cutting up my own bite.
I’d been on a mission to teach Jackson about breakfast over the last month. One morning, not long after he’d started sleeping with me, I’d asked him about his favorite breakfast foods. He’d just shrugged, saying that breakfast had never been a big deal and he mostly ate cold cereal.
I didn’t do cold cereal. And breakfast was a big deal.
Everyone deserved to wake up to the smell of bacon and warm syrup.
So I’d taken it upon myself to make breakfast a special meal for him. I didn’t make us feasts every day, mostly just eggs and some kind of meat—his muscles required protein. But once a week, I’d make something new. So far, his favorite was my biscuits and sausage gravy. He’d loved my crepes too.
There would be no more granola bars, Pop-Tarts or Frosted Flakes if I had anything to say about it.
“Are you working today?” he asked.
“Yeah. I need to go in for a little while and pay some bills. And I want to make sure everything on my checklist is done for winter.”
We’d had a few cold nights this past week where the temperature had dropped to nearly freezing. The last thing I needed at camp was a broken water pipe, so I was going to triple-check that we were prepped for snow.
“You don’t have to be at the bar until four, right? Want to come with me?”
He shook his head, swallowing a bite. “I can’t, babe. Sorry. Thea wants me to come down to talk about a few things.”
“What things? Is she okay?”
“She’s good. I’m sure she just wants to go over some numbers. She likes to bore me to death with the bar’s finances at least once a month.”
I giggled. “Don’t ever let my mother know how much you hate accounting, okay? It would crush her.”
Jackson laughed too, forking another bite. “Nah. Betty loves me no matter what.”
He wasn’t wrong. Mom was overjoyed that he and I were dating. Dad was too. They were both trying to let us have our space, but I’d definitely noticed a change in their routine.
Our weekly dinners, the ones that had always been on Saturday nights, were now more fluid. If Jackson was working on Saturday, they rescheduled to a night when he was free, even when I’d offer to just come over alone. And those two had eaten more meals at the bar over the last month than they had in the past year combined. One or both had a constant “hankering” for pizza these days.
I actually thought it was kind of endearing how much they loved spending time with Jackson. I loved spending all my time with him too.
“After I get done at the camp, I’m going to do some cleaning and laundry. But then I’ll come down and keep you company for dinner.”
“Sounds good,” he said. “I’ll be there whenever you come down.”
Thea was scheduled to work all morning and afternoon, but Jackson had been spending extra time at the bar this month, even if she was on shift. Logan had been spending a lot of his time there too. After what had happened last month, neither of them wanted to leave her alone for long stretches of time.
The night Thea had been attacked had left its mark.
Jackson and I learned all about what had happened the night we’d frantically walked to the cottage in search of Thea. The next day, he and I had gone down to Hazel’s cottage and gotten the scoop.
Thea had been receiving harassing emails from Ronny, one of the bar’s regulars. Things had escalated and he’d come after her that night. Luckily, nothing bad happened because Logan got to her in time, and the man who’d been harassing her was now facing time in prison for criminal stalking.
The threat was gone, but Thea was under a near-constant watch. I think Jackson and Logan had worked out some kind of secret system where one, if not both, was at the bar with her. Which meant even if it was Jackson’s night off, he was more often than not still at the bar, taking on more and more.
Now that the camp was closed, it didn’t bother me. I spent my nights there with him, eating dinner, visiting and helping him shut down before we came back here to bed. But I was worried that he was getting burned out.
He needed some time for himself too.
“Will you take me fishing?”
“Fishing?” He swallowed the last bite of his breakfast. “You want to go fishing?”
“Yeah. I want to see your boat. And pretty soon the lake will freeze. What if we went next week?”
He looked down at me with an odd expression in his eyes. I’d seen it many times over the last month, usually when I said something he wasn’t expecting, and it always tied my stomach in a knot.
His gaze held a strange mix of wonder and pain. It had taken me a while to read the look, but I’d finally put my finger on it.
He stared at me like he was trying to memorize my face. Like he was already preparing for me to walk away.
I gave him a soft smile, trying to ease some of his fears. In time, he’d see I wasn’t going anywhere. We just needed more breakfasts together and more nights spent in each other’s arms. We needed more mornings where he’d wake me up with a kiss before sliding inside me.
Maybe we needed five or fifty fishing trips, just the two of us, but eventually he’d see.
I wasn’t letting him go.
“So? What do you think?”
He blinked out of his stare, then ran his hand down my back. “Yeah. I’d love to take you fishing.”
“Goodie.” I smiled, then stood to clear our plates. “Do you want me to go over to your place and get your laundry? I’d be happy to toss it in with mine.”
“You don’t have to do that.” He followed me into the kitchen with the syrup and butter.
Jackson hadn’t let me into his place much. He had a nice house, though it was a little outdated. It was definitely a bachelor pad without much for decoration.
I’d actually only been there twice, both times in and out quickly, stopping only so he could change clothes. Every time I’d asked him if he wanted to stay the night there or hang out and watch a movie on his much bigger TV, he’d find a reason to keep me away.
I was trying not to make a big deal out of it since we’d only been together a short time. But the whole situation was bothering me.
I’d let him into my home completely, even giving him his own key. All I’d seen of his home was the entryway, living room and kitchen. I wasn’t sure if he was ashamed of his house. Or maybe it was a mess and he didn’t want me to see—though I doubted it because he kept the truck immaculate.
Whatever the reason, I was determined to break through.
“I don’t mind,” I told him. “Once I’m done at the camp, I have nothing else to do all day. I can certainly tackle my boyfriend’s laundry.”
“Don’t worry about it, Willa. I’ll do some this weekend.”
I sighed. “Okay.”
He didn’t trust me to wash his jeans yet, but he would.
Things would get easier.
We needed more time, just the two of us.