I catch myself smiling in the kitchen window as I stare outside with a mug of coffee in my hand. It’s a bad move to settle in like this. A bad move for all of us. I wipe the smile off my face, chug the rest of the coffee, and remind myself about the conversation we had yesterday. I’m here for the boys’ sake and that’s it.
“What’s for breakfast?” Donnie says, launching himself into a chair at the table. Rafe follows close behind, stifling a yawn.
Brushing thoughts of Sofie laying warm and soft a couple feet away from my mind, I turn my attention to the boys. “You guys up for some eggs and toast?”
“How about donuts?” Rafe suggests, grinning, his smile so like his sister’s I catch myself smiling back.
“How about no?” I counter.
They grumble, but offer no other resistance as I serve them up some orange juice and make a plate of eggs, only partially burnt, and lightly buttered toast.
I grab another cup of coffee and join them at the table. “Seem to be feeling better,” I comment after I down half the cup.
“Yeah,” Rafe says around a bite of toast. “A little bit.”
“Think you’ll be up for school tomorrow?”
That earns me a groan from both of them. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
Donnie eyes me with interest. “Are you and Sofie back together?”
Coffee nearly shoots out of my nose and I choke back a cough with another swallow. “No, she—I… we’re not together, Don. I’m just helping her because you guys got sick. That’s all.”
“Who would want to be with her anyway?” Rafe mutters into his forkful of eggs.
“Hey,” I say sharply. “I don’t want you talking about her like that. She’s your sister.”
“She left you, too,” he says, his face hard.
“People do a lot of things, but most of them deserve second chances.”
“Is that why you’re helping her?” Donnie asks.
I pause before answering, then I say, “Yeah, Don, that’s why. Sometimes people hurt you, and sometimes it really sucks, but they deserve a second chance. Especially your sister because she’s your family. I know losing your mom was hard, I lost my dad, too. You guys remember. She’s the only person you have left. Don’t give up on her just yet.”
“We’ve got you, don’t we?” Rafe asks.
Smiling, I scrub his hair affectionately. “Of course you do.”
The sound of the door closing has me crossing the kitchen to put my empty cup in the sink. “I’m gonna go check on her. You two finish your breakfast and get your rooms cleaned up today since you’re feeling better.”
Their grumbles follow my retreating back, but my mind is already on the sounds coming from the other side of the bathroom door. “Morning, sunshine,” I say with a rap of my knuckles.
“Go away,” she shouts from the other side of the door. At least that much hasn’t changed. Sofie’s not what I’d call an early riser. I hear a toilet flush and then the sound of water.
Impatient to see if her color’s come back, I knock again. She flings the door open and glowers. “There has to be something illegal about you staying here against my will. I think I have Logan’s number in my phone. You better get going before I find the strength to call him.”
I laugh, relief spreading through my chest. If she has enough energy to throw attitude, she’s definitely gotta be feeling better “Logan is on administrative leave again, so you’re out of luck there,” I say, following close behind as she limps to her room.
She plops on the bed and wraps herself in the nest of comforters. “Wait, what? I thought you were about to call him the other day when I showed up?”
“You mean broke in?” She rolls her eyes and I grin. “I lied. Figured the threat of jail would probably convince you to stay just to spite me.”
“You are such an ass,” she snaps as she sucks water from a straw.
Even with her hair thrown up in a messy bun and wearing PJ’s consisting of an old T-shirt and shorts, she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Especially, when the fight comes into her eyes. There are a few beats of silence before I remember to respond. “And you’re stubborn. Speaking of, I don’t want you to leave this bed until you’ve had something to eat, so don’t get it in your mind to go running around trying to do everything. I’ve got the boys handled for today. You just rest.”
She glares at me. “There are other cops in Nassau.”
“Sure, sure,” I say, forcing her to recline back into the covers while I head to the kitchen to fix her a plate. When I return, she’s engrossed in the latest episode of the sitcom I convinced her to watch. I hold up her plate. “Here you g—”
Snatching it from me with a waved hand, she hisses, “Shut up, this is the good part.”
Yes, it is. I refrain from voicing the sentiment as I join her on the bed. This feels so familiar, so normal, I almost never want to leave. Who thought being friends was a good idea?