” Amelia said without turning around. “I hope you don’t mind. I was hungry.” “That’s You didn’t have to.” “I did, actually. When was the last time you had a real breakfast?” Lucas opened his mouth, closed it, couldn’t remember. Amelia glanced over her shoulder. “You must be Emma.” Emma pressed closer to Lucas’s leg, suddenly shy.
“Uh-huh.” “I’m Amelia. Your dad’s letting me stay here for a few days.” She flipped the bacon expertly. “Do you like scrambled eggs?” “Sometimes.” “Good. These will be ready in 5 minutes. Why don’t you two sit down?” They sat. Lucas felt like he was moving through a dream, or maybe a hallucination brought on by severe sleep deprivation.
This woman, this stranger, was cooking breakfast in his kitchen like it was the most natural thing in the world, and not just throwing something together, real food. Enough for all of them. “Where did you find all this?” he asked. “Your fridge. You had more than you think.” She started plating eggs. “Though we should go shopping today.
You’re out of milk and the bread situation is critical.” “I can’t afford “I can.” She set a plate in front of Emma, then Lucas. “I told you I’d pay rent. Consider this part of it.” Lucas stared at the eggs. Golden, fluffy, perfect. When was the last time someone had cooked for him? When was the last time he’d eaten something that wasn’t frozen or out of a box? Emma dug in immediately, shoveling eggs into her mouth.
Amelia sat down across from them with her own plate, eating with the same efficient precision she seemed to apply to everything. “So,” Lucas said carefully, “about last night.” “What about it?” “You said you were running from people who want to control you.” He kept his voice low, conscious of Emma listening. “What people?” Amelia took a sip of coffee.
“Business partners, family, people who think they own me because of my last name.” “What’s your last name?” “Does it matter?” “If you’re staying in my house, yeah, it matters.” She looked at him for a long moment. “Sterling.” “Amelia Sterling.” The name meant nothing to Lucas, but the way she said it, like a confession, made him think it should.
“Okay,” he said. “Amelia Sterling. Why should I believe you’re not some kind of criminal?” “Would a criminal make you breakfast?” “That’s not an answer.” “No,” she agreed. “But it’s the only one I have right now.” Emma looked up from her eggs. “Are you a princess?” Amelia blinked. “What?” “You look like a princess from the movies.
” “I’m not a princess, sweetheart. Just someone who’s very tired and needed somewhere quiet to sleep.” “Daddy’s tired, too,” Emma said matter-of-factly. “He’s always tired.” Lucas felt his chest tighten. “Emma it’s true. You fall asleep in chairs and forget to eat dinner and last week you cried in the barn when you thought I couldn’t see.” The kitchen went silent.
Amelia was looking at him now, really looking, and Lucas wanted to disappear through the floor. “Emma, that’s enough,” he said quietly. “I’m just saying Enough.” His daughter’s face crumpled. She pushed back from the table and ran upstairs. Her footsteps heavy on the old wood. A door slammed. Lucas closed his eyes.
“I should give her a minute,” Amelia said. “She’s worried about you.” “She’s six. She shouldn’t have to worry about me.” “But she does.” “Because she loves you and she can see you’re struggling.” Amelia stood, started clearing plates. “For what it’s worth, you’re doing better than you think.” “You don’t know anything about me.
” “I know you’re raising two kids alone on a failing farm while barely keeping yourself alive. I know you answered the door at 3:00 a.m. for a stranger instead of calling the police. I know you’re proud and stubborn and probably haven’t asked for help once in your life.” She turned to face him. “How am I doing so far?” Lucas just stared at her.
“I’m not here to judge you, Lucas. I’m here because I need somewhere to hide and you need help whether you’ll admit it or not. So let’s make this simple. I stay, I contribute, and we both pretend we’re not drowning.” “I’m not Yes, you are.” “I recognize it because I am, too.” She crossed her arms. “One week. That’s what you said.
Give me one week to prove I’m not making things worse. If I am, I’ll leave. No argument.” He wanted to say no. Wanted to throw her out right now, consequences be damned. But the eggs had been good and the coffee was better and Emma was upstairs crying because she’d told the truth and Lucas was so tired of doing everything alone.
“One week,” he said finally, “but there are rules.” “I’m listening.” “You don’t go through our stuff. You don’t make promises to my kids you can’t keep. And if I tell you to leave, you leave. No questions.” “Agreed. And I want to know what you’re really running from.” Amelia hesitated. “I will, but not yet.
I need to trust you first.” “That’s not how trust works.” “No,” she said, “but it’s the best I can do.” Upstairs Mason started crying. Lucas stood automatically, his body moving before his brain caught up. “I’ll get him,” Amelia said. “You should check on Emma.” “You don’t Lucas, let me help.” He She disappeared upstairs before he could argue.
Lucas stood in the kitchen alone with dirty dishes and the lingering smell of bacon, wondering what the hell he’d gotten himself into. Emma’s room was at the end of the hall, the door covered in crayon drawings and construction paper stars. Lucas knocked gently. “Go away.” “Emma, come on.” “You yelled at me.” “I didn’t yell.
I just He stopped, took a breath. “Can I come in?” Silence, then “I guess.” She was lying on her bed, face pressed into a pillow shaped like a unicorn. The room was small, but neat. Emma had always been particular about her things, even as a toddler. Photos covered one wall, mostly pictures she’d drawn herself.
