Page 17 of Splintered Desire

A smile pulls at my lips as I stand staring in awe at everything in front of me.

Eggs, milk, entire blocks of cheese, various flavors of yogurt, juices, and a few flavors of coffee creamer.

I snag the French vanilla creamer with a little squeal of excitement, tucking it close to my chest and doing a little happy dance. It’s my favorite, but something we rarely had because it wasn’t necessary and pretty expensive.

Today just keeps getting better.

Of course, the universe can’t have that, though.

“Do you need a moment alone?”

Isaac’s deep voice rings out around me, startling me enough that I fumble the creamer, barely catching it before it tumbles to the ground. With a huff of annoyance, I shoot a glare at him over my shoulder before turning back to the fridge.

His deep, throaty chuckle is quiet but impossible to miss, especially with only us in the room, and oh God, is it distracting. I stand staring into the fridge without seeing for a moment before I realize I’ve completely zoned out.

Thank fuck my back is to him. All I need is to give any of them more ammunition to use against me.

Isaac is harder to get a read on. He’s always watching, and he doesn’t seem to be one for conversation, but that laugh…damn, it’s dangerous.

Mentally shaking myself, I grab the butter. I’d seen bagels near the coffee machine, and while I might have been in the mood to cook a moment ago, I suddenly crave something simpler. Something that will get me out of this kitchen as soon as possible.

Hell, if I didn’t think he would use it against me, I’d leave, abandon my coffee, and go find a nice corner store or Starbucks, anything that wasn’t here.

No matter how appealing the thought is, I know I can’t. If I run scared every time one of them is around, they’ll think they can control me. That I’ll bend to their whims, and as much as they might scare the shit out of me, that’s the last thing I want.

I straighten to my full height, rolling my shoulders back and lifting my chin before I let the fridge fall closed and move back to the counter to my cup of coffee. The toaster, of course, is on the other side of the kitchen, just past the coffeemaker and the bagels, on Isaac’s other side.

Because why wouldn’t it be?

I tell myself it’s not a big deal as I move around him and let out a sigh of relief when he lets me pass without incident, even if I can feel his eyes boring into the back of my head. Ignoring him, I mix in my creamer and start on my bagel.

Just like so many other things, they have choices.

Blueberry, Everything, Cinnamon Raisin, and Asiago… Shit, they all sound delicious, and upon further inspection, I’m pretty sure these are the expensive, freshly made ones, not the mass-produced ones you get at the grocery store.

My mouth waters at the thought, and I almost jump out of my skin when Isaac picks that very moment to speak.

“Asiago is the best,” he says, but when I look up at him, he’s not even looking my way as he fiddles with the coffee machine with a precision I could only dream of. I purse my lips, turning back to the bagels, and I’m half tempted to pick something else just because he said that.

Why the hell did he have to say the one I was leaning toward?

Whatever. I like cheese; lots of people do. It has nothing to do with him.

The second I open the package, the smell assaults me, and my stomach rumbles, reminding me that I didn’t eat dinner last night.

“What the hell?” I pull the bagel from the package, and yeah, I thought I was missing it, but apparently, fancy bagels don’t have the cool little pre-cut line.

Ugh.

Why do rich people make things so complicated?

Now I need to find a knife in the millions of drawers in here. Okay, there's like twenty, but still.

I start with the two right in front of me. I pull them open, and not only are there no knives, but one is full of seasoning and the other is filled with baking supplies.

I move down to the next one, and while it has silverware, it’s all spoons and forks, not a single knife.

Maybe Starbucks is the right choice after all.