Isleen stopped mid-stride, her mind whirling and searching for what Row could be talking about, but she kept coming up with nothing and more nothing.
“Your head.” Row motioned to her own forehead.
“Oh…” She touched her forehead. The swollen hill of flesh, puffy and sore, hadn’t seemed that bad only thirty seconds ago. “I bent down to get my towel off the floor and cracked my head on the sink.” The lie flowed out so glossy and sleek she almost believed it. She didn’t even blush or get flushed from the untruth. In all her years, through everything, she’d never been a liar until now.
“That’s going to bruise. Let me get you some ice.” Row scooted out of her chair and headed toward the fridge. “Sit wherever you’d like. And dig in.”
Isleen turned her attention back to the table. Row’s seat was at the head of the table—the power position. On her left sat Matt. He glared at her with a look that said I-know-you-did-that-to-yourself. But how could he know? He couldn’t. It was in her mind. He was just looking at her like he always did—as if she were his enemy.
Alex sat on Row’s right, silently eating. Isleen got to choose—sit next to Alex or Matt. Since Matt openly disliked her, that left Alex. She moved in next to him, but caught the smirking tilt of Matt’s lips as if he knew exactly why she chose Alex. She bypassed Alex, walked around the table, and sat next to Matt.
The guy thought he could intimidate her? Yeah, she’d show him.
She reached for the empty plate and the silverware rolled in a napkin. Real cloth napkins. The kind fancy restaurants had. “Can you pass the pecan butterscotch pancakes? Please.” She made sure—just for Matt—her voice was all sweet syrup.
Matt stared at her, the unyielding, half-angry expression pinching his lips, a futile attempt to be intimidating. She smiled at him, trying for one that looked genuine, but knew it came off as a bit forced.
Without looking away from her, Matt handed her the pancakes. The power of their heavenly smell drew her vision to them. Candied pecans were sprinkled over the platter, and the smell wafted into her nose. She closed her eyes and just breathed it in. God. Heaven on a plate. She forked one pancake on her plate, her hand shaking with excitement and the expectation of that first bite.
“Eat only a few bites. Small frequent meals until your body adjusts.” Matt’s tone was friendlier than his face.
“I know,” she said and reached for the syrup. And then the eggs and bacon and fruit. She mounded her plate ridiculously full—knew she looked like a food hoarder, but couldn’t resist the delicious look of everything. She sliced off a neat triangle of pancake and brought it to her lips. Flavor—butterscotch and butter and syrup—exploded inside her mouth. She closed her eyes and leaned back in her chair, savoring. She’d missed good food. She swallowed and finally opened her eyes.
“How’d you like it?” Row asked, handing her a fancy padded ice pack.
“Wow, Row. Best thing I’ve ever eaten.”
A delighted smile lit Row’s wrinkled face. “I’m glad you like them. I made some extras for you to take up to Xander’s after breakfast.”
Isleen nodded her head enthusiastically and shoved another bite of pancake in her mouth and then held the icepack to her forehead while she chewed. She wanted to bury her face in her plate and go at the food rabid-dog style, but the doctor had told her to eat slow, small meals. After she swallowed, she sat back, determined to wait a few minutes before her next bite.
Alex focused on his meal.
“Alex?” She used her best soothing-the-scared-child voice. Surprisingly, his head rose and he met her gaze. Triumph pumped through her. Maybe he wasn’t as bad as Row made him seem. “How’s Gran this morning?”
He looked at her as if he hadn’t seen her before. With how devoted he’d been to Gran yesterday, maybe he hadn’t.
“I see Shayla in you.” His voice was a more gravelly version of Xander’s.
“It’s in the shape of her face, isn’t it?” Row bounced in her chair like a happy ADHD kid, obviously unable to contain her excitement that Alex had spoken.
Alex set down his fork, folded his napkin, and settled it neatly across his plate. “Where is Shayla?” His eyes were like twin icicles that pinned Isleen to her seat in a way Matt’s attempts at intimidation never could.
“I-I don’t know. Gran never spoke about her or the past or any of this.”
Alex flinched as if her words had whipped him across his heart. “What happened to Gale? Why is she in the condition she is in? Don’t you know how fragile she’s always been? You should’ve protected her.”
The pancake turned into a leaden lump in Isleen’s stomach.
“Alex!” Roweena’s tone was filled with shock and anger. “Don’t you blame her. She barely made it out of there alive. Blame the person who held them captive.”