Page 27 of Vetted for Vengeance
Once when he reaches for the wrong cupboard.
Once when he nearly uses the kettle before it finishes boiling.
I bite the words back both times.
He doesn't need my help.
And watching him figure it out is… strangely satisfying. Predictable chaos.
Within my control.
Noah sets the mugs down on the counter between us, steam curling lazily into the air.
“See?” he says with a small smile. “I didn't burn your house down.”
“I never said you would.”
I stare at the mug for a moment before picking it up.
“But you thought it,” he says, smiling as I blow across the surface of my drink. “Perfectly functional tea.”
I take a sip.
The tea is exactly how I like it. Not close. Not acceptable. Exact.
The right amount of milk. The correct strength. No hesitation in the preparation.
I don't know when Noah started learning my habits or why I allow it, but this tea maid side to him can stay.
Chapter sixteen
Noah
The situation feels more relaxed now, probably because Rhys is drinking tea in his armchair watching TV.
The house is quiet except for the soft murmur of the news and the occasional clink of his spoon against the mug.
It feels strange to be in a killer’s living room and feel… comfortable.
Not safe.
I’m not stupid.
But… settled.
Like I’ve stepped into someone else’s life and been allowed to stay.
He is a man of order, and I am a whirlwind. Everything about him runs on routine. Predictable. Controlled. Intentional.
Every movement has a reason.
Every object has a place.
I think nothing in his life happens by accident.
The mug. The chair. The exact angle of the lamp beside him. I don’t think he even realizes he does it.
That makes it more important. Habits you don’t notice are the hardest to break.
