Page 39 of Liberty
I laughed. “Are you implying that we were troublesome children?”
“I’m only going off the facts I have at hand.”
I took out a pan, tossing in a little oil to let it heat. “We weren’t terrible children. I mean, we had our moments where we got into trouble or drama happened, but mostly it was chores. We had to do a lot of chores because the outcome meant survival.”
“You know,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone, “When I was a kid, I was a troublemaker.”
I acted shocked. “Someone with James’ blood running in their veins? No! I don’t believe it.”
She hip bumped me. “I know, but it’s the truth. I would hardly believe it either if I was in your shoes.”
I put the steak I just sliced into the hot oil. If I weren’t already lusting over this girl, her bits of sarcasm and wit would have me chasing after her. “But you were an only child, I assume?”
“Correct.”
“I’m sorry, I have a hard time thinking that someone could get into much trouble as an only child.”
She snorted. “That’s because you grew up with wood and dirt as your only source of pranks.”
“Whoa.” I held up my hand. “That’s not true . . . we had hay. Dung. And, if you were willing to do the extra work, water.”
She laughed, and my chest tightened. The feeling of her laugh directed at me was the closest to a high I’d had in decades. “Do you want me to put the peppers in?”
“Peppers?” I was too distracted by her; I had forgotten what we were doing. I cleared my throat, “Oh yeah, toss them in.”
She scraped her cutting board into the pan, then picked up the wooden spoon I had used and stirred them in. Behind us, I heard steps approach, and without even turning from where I was chopping onions, I knew it was Oak. “Are you going to help? Or just stand there and hope we feed you?”
His clipped voice cut the silence, “What do you need?”
Liberty gazed over her shoulder. “How about you set the table?”
He dipped his head in acknowledgment, then went straight for the cupboard without argument and grabbed a handful of plates. He sat them at the table, as Liberty tended to the pot, and I tried not to cry my eyes out from the onion. He added silverware before opening the fridge and taking out the fixings for a salad.
Silence fell over us comfortably as Oak made a salad, and Liberty and I finished the stir-fry. When the food was done and plated, we placed it at the table right as Sterling walked in. His timing always so perfect.
“Came to eat but not cook, I see?” He seemed unphased by me.
“I would have poisoned you all.”
This was probably a fact. In all the years I’d known Sterling, not that I actively tried to keep up on him, I never once heard about him trying to improve his culinary skills. “The fact remains, no help, no eat.”
Liberty hissed my name, and I glanced at her, unashamed before she cut in between us, “Don’t worry, Sterling here will do dishes.”
“What?” He seemed shocked, like a sink of dirty water never touched his perfectly manicured hands in the centuries of his life.
She leveled him with a glare; his frame, double her size, shrunk under her gaze. “Sterling.”
He groaned like a damn child, then pulled out a chair and plopped down. “Fine.”
She looked so fucking proud as her eyes left him and fell on me. She didn’t even try to hide how smug she felt about being able to control him so damn easily. She grabbed the bowl of salad. “Alright, boys, grab the food, and let's eat!”
Dinner was – nice. It could have been better if it was just Liberty and me, but then I guess I didn’t always get what I wanted. Hell, I rarely did in this long-ass lifetime of mine. Still, absolutely nothing was resolved. Nothing. No step closer to her safety. No step closer to figuring this out. No step closer to fucking shit.
“So, I was thinking,” Liberty announced as she put the leftovers in a container for tomorrow. Ha. She had no clue that with three men in the house, those leftovers probably wouldn’t make it until midnight.
All attention turned to her. “Go on.”
“I thought Sterling could come with me to my apartment quickly.”