Faked - Karla Sorensen Page 0,45

of tall, spindly trees, whipping, white wind, and the large, fluffy flakes that relentlessly fell.

What a strange, strange turn of events my life had taken in the course of one week.

It made me think about school as most things did. One of the most fascinating parts of what I was learning was about the consequences of one's actions and how they could affect the people around you.

Children bore the consequences of how the adults in their life spoke to them, treated them, taught them, loved them. Or didn't love them. For each action, there was a reaction. Sometimes it was big, and sometimes it was small.

I agreed to do something for my sister. In the grand scheme of my life, it was a small decision, fueled by feelings that had lingered for a span of time that could only be considered big.

The consequences of that small action were huge.

And I was still puzzling out in my head what they meant, and how my heart couldn't quite decipher what to do with them.

The sounds of Bauer in the small kitchen, looking for grounds and trying to figure out the "stupid, ancient piece of shit machine" had me smiling, which was a starting place for what I knew in my head.

I knew that our evening had been quiet but still fun. We ate sodium and fat-laden chicken pot pies in front of the fireplace while he searched for something for us to watch in the small drawer of DVDs that Scotty owned. We settled on Tombstone, and Bauer knew every single word. Occasionally, I caught a glimpse of him in the firelight, mouthing the lines.

He'd stayed on the chair, and I'd taken up residence under a blanket on the couch.

I knew as I laid in the relative privacy of the loft that I'd felt a twinge of disappointment when he sent me upstairs to bed without anything more than a "sleep tight, princess."

"What exactly do you want, Claire?" I whispered.

Bauer's head popped up again, and I jumped, afraid he'd heard me. "How do pancakes sound? I found a box of mix in the pantry."

I sat up slowly, back aching slightly from the dip in Scott's mattress that I wasn't used to. "I can make some, sure."

"Terribly sexist of you to assume that I meant you'd cook, not me." With a wink, he disappeared.

When I stood, careful not to bang my head on the slope of the ceiling, I caught a glimpse of myself in the dusty mirror hanging over the dresser. My cheeks were flushed and my hair tangled from sleep.

Honestly, I looked like I'd just gotten laid. Well.

Laying a hand on my chest, I took a deep breath, held it in my lungs, and exhaled. Sometimes, you could move forward without worrying too much about the consequences. You could leap without knowing what laid beneath your feet.

Maybe this time with Bauer, unexpected and unplanned, was a chance for me to practice that.

Crumpled on the floor by the bed was a bright red blanket, and I picked it up, wrapping it around my shoulders before I made my way downstairs.

Bauer was expertly pouring pancake batter onto a sizzling griddle that looked like it was older than both of us combined.

"Those smell good," I told him. "Thank you for doing that."

He glanced over his shoulder—now covered with a black-T-shirt—and grinned crookedly. "That's the beauty of having low expectations of men like me, huh? Follow a simple set of directions on the side of a box, and I have the undying gratitude of a beautiful woman."

"Men like you?" I repeated as I poured a steaming cup of coffee. "Who's dangling bait for compliments now?"

His answering laugh was a short bark. I watched as he deftly flipped the pancakes. When two were ready, he slid them onto a waiting plate and jerked his chin at me. "Go ahead."

The pancakes were perfect. Fluffy and sweet and warm, and I watched Bauer make himself a stack double the height of mine. I raised my eyebrows meaningfully before he took his first huge bite.

"What?" he muttered around a mouthful. "I need my energy."

"For what?" I waved my fork around the small cabin. "We're stuck."

His eyes took on a devilish gleam.

"What?"

"How long has it been since you've worn snow pants, princess?"

About an hour later, Agnes watched me with green eyes full of judgment and disdain. Her tail flicked lazily as I turned sideways, looking at myself in the bathroom mirror.

"This is not my best look."

She meowed.

"I know. I know