Page 2 of Fool Me Twice
There was a moment of silence and Hart took a few more steps down in the midst of it.
“Fine, daddy!” Ash sounded exasperated. “But I’m telling Morgan you’re ganging up on me.”
"Don't call me that!"
There was another set of footsteps rushing to the door before it slammed shut and the house fell into silence once more.
Hart descended to the kitchen, following the smell of breakfast and coffee.
“Morning.” He greeted Fix, who was wrapped in a frilly pink apron with the words ‘Kiss the cook but don’t touch the buns’ on it over his tight gray T-shirt, stirring something on the stove. Both items of clothing were straining to cover Fix’s large frame, the pink setting off the colors in his tattoo sleeves.
“Morning, Hart,” Fix said over his shoulder. His black and gray beard had been freshly trimmed. “Sleep well?”
“I feel well rested,” Hart said, taking a seat at the kitchen island and accepting the mug of coffee Fix presented him with. “Thank you so much.”
“No problem,” Fix said with a satisfied smile. “I made you a sandwich as well. Your favorite. It’s in the fridge.”
“I appreciate it.” Hart stood up, opening the fridge to find a neatly wrapped sandwich on a dark gray plate.
It had been cut in half with a neat, diagonal cut, the wax paper holding it all together. He took the plate out, putting it on the island before grabbing half the sandwich.
He admired the cross section, loving how neat the layers were. The fresh green from the avocado, the yellow from the thin omelet, and the dark orangey-pink from the smoked salmon. Fix knew him so well.
He took dainty bites, using the napkin Fix placed in front of him to dab at his lips after each one. He was following Fix with his eyes while he ate, watching as he plated his own food and poured his own coffee before sitting across from Hart and eating his breakfast in silence.
Hart knew why.
He knew Fix was staying silent because Hart hated talking while he ate—something Fix respected more than anyone else he’d ever met.
Hart swallowed his last bite, wiped his lips, and put his folded, used napkin on top of his plate.
“Cooking is the ultimate act of giving,” Hart said, to let Fix know he was okay to talk, but also appreciative of the effort he’d gone through to make his food.
“You know I like taking care of you lot.” Fix finished his own food in a few wolfish bites before standing up to fill a small, plastic container with freshly made oatmeal. He topped it with chopped nuts and dried fruits, placing it in the microwave with a little note on top.
“For Wren?” Hart asked.
Fix nodded. “He came in really late last night. I don’t think he ate dinner at all.”
“He’ll be happy to have a hearty breakfast.”
“Tell him it’s in there if you see him before you leave.” Fix removed his apron before gathering his phone and keys to put in his pockets. “But I’ll text him as well just to make sure.”
“You’re leaving too?” Hart asked, sipping his coffee.
Fix pointed to the pile of dirty dishes. “Just gonna get this settled and head out.”
Hart waved his free hand at him. “You go ahead. I’ll take care of it.”
“Sure?”
Hart nodded. “You cooked, so it’s only fair.”
“Appreciate it.” Fix was already halfway out the door. “I’ll see you at home tonight.”
“Not coming to the office?”
Fix shook his head with a wry look. “I’m still not done with the annoying umbrella case.”