For a moment, I just stand there, gazing at their huge kitchen. It may as well be a labyrinth to me. A puzzle made up to confuse people.
Wyatt’s gaze narrows. “You did hear me, right?”
I nod slowly and swallow. “Yeah, I heard you.”
I peek at him as he runs his hand across his chin. “Can I ask you a question, Dakota?”
I shrug. It’s not as if I can stop him, and even if he asks it, that doesn’t mean I have to answer. “Sure.”
“Do you like chocolate or fruit?”
It’s my turn to look at him strangely. He gets off his stool and goes into the kitchen. He starts pulling things out of the cupboard. A plate, a measuring cup, and some sort of cooking appliance.
He gazes over his shoulder when I don’t answer. “I know. You probably like both.”
“I do...” I say, letting myself trail off. Admittedly, my experiences with both are limited. I didn’t get treats or snacks when I was a kid. Or ever, actually.
Wyatt smiles. “I’m going to make you something that will blow your mind, Dakota Wilder.”
I lift my brows. “Yeah?”
He returns to cooking, chuckling softly to himself. I watch him work from where I’m standing, but then move closer. He whips up a batter that I realize is going into a waffle machine—the appliance he pulled out of the cupboards. Then, he grabs some fruit and Nutella. He chops up the fruit and when the waffle machine beeps. He places the waffle onto a plate, layers Nutella over it and then drops a sprinkling of strawberries and blueberries over the top.
“Hell yes!” a voice exclaims. “Hurry up, Stone! Wyatt’s cooking!”
I jump at the intrusion. I’d been salivating over the waffle and hadn’t even heard Lucas come in. I’m also not used to so much noise. My father was a quiet man when he was doing anything except for discussing treasure.
“Not for you two fuckwits.” Wyatt hands me the plate, and I take it with a smile.
I pass by Lucas to the barstools surrounding the island. He frowns as he looks at my plate. “What?”
“Nothing’s changed,” Wyatt says. “I cook on the weekends. What happened to you guys cooking a little during the week, huh?”
Lucas gazes at the waffle machine like it’s a UFO. I’m right there with him. I’d never seen one in use until just now. After watching Wyatt, I think I might be able to make one though.
Wyatt hands me a fork. I cut off a piece, spear it, and put it into my mouth. The chocolate hazelnut flavor mixed with the sweetness of the waffle melts in my mouth. “Mmmmmm,” I moan. “Oh my God.”
Wyatt winks at me. “I knew you’d like it.”
My next bite, I grab one of the blueberries piled in the center and eat it with the waffle and Nutella. My lids flutter closed. I keep going until I realize everything around me has stopped. When I glance up, Wyatt, Lucas, and now Stone are staring at me. I lick the fork, grabbing as much of the chocolate as I can, not wanting any of it to go to waste. They watch my every move, and heat creeps up my neck then blossoms on my cheeks.
They look away, Stone clearing his throat. “Um, waffles then?”
“Have at it,” Wyatt says, nodding toward the waffle maker. He takes another look at me and then retreats from the room, lines wrinkling his forehead as he goes.
“Fuck it. I’m going to try it,” Lucas says. Stone, however, opts for cereal, pouring himself a bowl and sitting two seats away from me at the bar.
We eat in silence while Lucas curses over the waffle maker. The batter doesn’t turn out to be the same consistency as when Wyatt made it, and when he shuts the top on the maker, it spills down the sides. Steam rises all the way to the ceiling and reaches out like tendrils. He cleans up as best he can, but when the machine beeps, announcing it’s done, it’s burnt.
“Seriously?” he growls.
Stone chuckles. “And that’s why I didn’t even attempt it.”
Lucas pries the burnt waffle out of the maker onto a paper plate and then throws the whole thing away. He grabs a bagel instead after Stone remarks about the time.
After I’m finished, I take my plate to the sink, rinsing it off. Once it’s clean, I start to head toward the front door when Stone stops me. “I’m sorry about Saturday, by the way.”
I come to a stop, my brain still two seconds behind trying to make sure I heard Stone correctly. I peer over my shoulder at him.
He clears his throat. “I didn’t know my father was going to hold that press conference, or I would’ve warned you.”
I had a lot of time to think about what happened while I stayed in my room over the weekend. I’m definitely not over it, but what’s done is done. It helps to hear Stone apologize. I want to hold a grudge. My mind tells me I need to. Maybe it’s because I’m satiated and calm that I feel like being the better person though. “If we’re going to be working together, I would appreciate updates on everything,” I tell him. “Everything. Especially things that have to do with my family. I wasn’t aware that by agreeing to help you that it would be widespread news. I’m not used to working like that,” I admit.
Stone drops his spoon into his bowl and lifts his head to meet my gaze. “I’m sorry.”
The contrite look in his blue-gray eyes is sincere. I nod, refusing to say that it’s okay because it’s not.
When I start to walk away again, he says, “I’d prefer it if we all rode to school together. It’s safer that way.” My hands ball to fists, but before I can object, he cuts me off. “I know you don’t like being told what to do, but we’re better off. If you don’t trust me, ask
