Chapter 71: Untitled Chapter

Kendrix woke up to the smell of coffee.For a second, she thought she was dreaming.

Then she heard movement downstairs.

A cupboard closing.A chair scraping lightly against the floor. Someone walking through the kitchen.

She frowned. The house usually wasn't awake this early. At least not willingly.

Pulling on an oversized sweater, she wandered downstairs.

The kitchen lights were already on. And Roberto was standing at the counter.

Kendrix stopped in the doorway.Not because he was making coffee. Because he was making breakfast.

Roberto noticed her immediately. His eyes lifted, and stayed there. No looking away.

No careful distance.

Just a quiet moment of recognition before he returned to what he was doing.

"You're awake."

Kendrix leaned against the doorway. "Apparently."

Her gaze dropped to the stove. Then back to him. "You cook?"

Roberto looked almost offended."I know how to feed myself."

"That wasn't my question."

A pause.

Then, to her surprise, the corner of his mouth twitched. Barely, but it was there.

Kendrix stared. "You smiled."

"No, I didn't."

"You absolutely did."

"I didn't."

"You did."

Roberto reached for a plate. The conversation was over as far as he was concerned. Which was suspicious. Very suspicious.

Kendrix grinned to herself and crossed the room. The closer she got, the more normal it felt. That should have worried her. It didn't.

She hopped onto one of the stools at the counter.

Roberto slid a mug toward her without looking. Already prepared coffee. Already exactly how she liked it.

Kendrix stared at the cup. Then at him.

Then back at the cup."You remembered."

Roberto paused.Only for a second though.

Then he continued arranging breakfast.

"You complain when it's wrong."

Kendrix laughed. "There it is."

"There what is?"

"The excuse."

His jaw tightened slightly. He had been caught. Not that he would admit it.

She wrapped both hands around the mug, smiling into the steam. Something warm settled inside her. Not because of the coffee.

A few minutes later Bash stumbled into the kitchen half asleep with his hair a disaster, looking like mornings had personally offended him. He stopped, looked at Roberto, looked at Kendrix, looked at the breakfast, then looked back at Roberto.

The silence stretched long and weird.

“What?” Roberto said without turning around.

Bash pointed at the counter. “You made breakfast.”

“Yes.”

Bash narrowed his eyes. “Voluntarily?”

Skyler walked in behind him, took one look around, and froze. His gaze went from Roberto to Kendrix to the coffee and back to Roberto.

A beat passed. Then Skyler said, “Oh.”

Bash immediately pointed at him. “See? He sees it too.”

“I see several things.”

“Name them.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because I enjoy being alive.”

Kendrix almost choked on her coffee. Roberto closed his eyes for a second like he regretted waking up at all.

The conversation somehow survived breakfast, mostly because Roberto ignored ninety percent of what Bash said. But Kendrix noticed something. Every time she reached for something, the sugar, the napkins, the fruit bowl, Roberto handed it to her before she asked. Like he had been paying attention for a while.

Bash noticed too. His eyes got wider each time. By the fourth time he looked personally offended. “Okay.”

Nobody answered.

“Okay.”

Still nothing.

Bash slapped a hand on the table. “This is insane.”

Skyler calmly sipped his coffee. “I agree.”

Kendrix looked down to hide her smile. Roberto kept eating with a blank face, which would have been convincing if his attention hadn’t immediately shifted when Kendrix quietly muttered,

“Can you pass the jam?”

He handed it over before she finished the sentence.

The table went dead silent. Bash stared. Skyler stared. Kendrix stared. Even Roberto stared, mostly at the jam now sitting in her hand. A mistake. A very obvious mistake.

Bash slowly stood up. “No.”

Skyler nodded. “No.”

Neither of them explained. Neither needed to. Because for the first time, Roberto actually looked embarrassed. And that was more shocking than anything else.

Kendrix bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from laughing. It didn’t work. The sound slipped out anyway. And Roberto looked at her immediately, instinctively, the way he always did.

The room went quiet again. But this time it wasn’t awkward or tense or careful. It was warm. The kind of warmth that sneaks in before anyone notices.

And for the first time since everything changed, nobody seemed interested in pretending it wasn’t there.

. .

Kendrix had no business being in the kitchen at dinner time. That became obvious the moment she tried to help.

“You know,” Bash said from his seat at the counter, “most people contribute by staying out of the way.”

Kendrix shot him a look while stirring the pot. “Most people don’t wake up and choose to be annoying.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. It’s a talent.”

Skyler didn’t look up from his tablet. “It’s not a talent.”

“It absolutely is.”

Kendrix rolled her eyes and turned back to the stove. Roberto had left earlier for a meeting and wasn’t expected back until late. Without him, the house felt louder. Mostly because Bash never shut up.

She reached for the lid just as Bash said something ridiculous. She laughed before she could stop herself, her grip slipped, and hot water splashed across the back of her hand. The pain hit a second later. “Ow.”

The lid clattered against the counter.

Bash was on his feet immediately. “Kendrix?”

She pulled her hand back fast. “It’s fine.”

It wasn’t fine. The skin was already turning red and angry.

Skyler stood and walked over. “Run it under cold water.”

“I’m okay.”

“That’s not what I said.”

Kendrix muttered something under her breath but moved toward the sink anyway. The kitchen door opened before she got there.

Roberto walked in.

He took one look at her face, then at her hand, and everything else stopped mattering.

The room went dead silent. Kendrix opened her mouth to say it was nothing, but the words died in her throat. Because the look on Roberto’s face wasn’t anger. It wasn’t annoyance. It was fear.

Real, unfiltered fear. The kind that comes from losing something once before.

“What happened?” His voice wasn’t loud. It was worse. It was sharp and immediate.