Brody - Ellie Masters Page 0,91
brought stuff to make my famous pancakes.” Mom turns toward me. “Brody, do you mind helping me?”
Mom never asks any of us to help her in the kitchen. She says Asher, Cage, and I are heathens who make a mess of everything, but I get what she’s doing. Grace and Mark need to have time alone with Mrs. Atwood. As much as I want to be by Grace’s side, supporting her, she doesn’t need me hovering while her mom dies.
“And finally discover how you make your famous pancakes?” I rock back on my heels and fail to hide my enthusiasm. “You bet.”
“Honey, you’re not helping with the pancakes. I’ll give you a skillet for the sausage and bacon. I’m pretty sure you can’t screw those up, but my pancakes are mine.”
I take Grace’s hands in mine, give a little squeeze, then wrap my arms around her. “If you need me, I’ll be the one held hostage in the kitchen.”
“You don’t have to cook for us.” Grace leans into my arms, almost as if she’s soaking up strength. That’s fine with me. I want Grace to need me. To want me. I want more of this. The two of us needing and depending on the other.
“Nonsense.” My mom gives a sharp shake of her head. “You look like you can use a little bit of home-cooked love. I’ve got everything covered for the whole day. You don’t have to worry about anything.” Just like that, Mom takes over. I get roped into helping her in the kitchen while Grace and Mark sit with Lucy. A little digging and I find a skillet and get to work with the bacon.
“Stop it.” Mom gives a shake of her head.
“Stop what?”
“You’re going to burn the bacon if you keep staring at that door.”
“I’m just worried.”
“Worried about Lucy, or worried about Grace?”
“Can’t it be both?”
My mother takes one good look at me and gives a sharp shake of her head. “You love her.”
My attention shifts from Mrs. Atwood’s room to my mom.
“Do not.” Telling Mrs. Atwood how I feel about her daughter is one thing, but confessing I love Grace to my mom? I’m not ready for that.
“Hun, I’ve seen that love-struck look too many times. And for what it’s worth, it’s about damn time.”
“Excuse me?”
“It’s taken far too long for you to get your head out of your ass.”
“Again—excuse me?”
“Oh, come on. I’ve watched you over the years, sleeping with all the pretty things, chasing the illusion of love while running from it at the same time. You’re not like your brothers.”
“Technically, I’m exactly like them.”
“And yet, you’re the one who feels things the deepest while pretending you’ve never cared for anyone your whole life. Grace bit you when you were far too young to really understand things. It scared you, and you fixed it so that you didn’t have to deal with your feelings.”
“You’re making a lot of assumptions.”
“I’m stating facts, and you know I’m right.”
“I’ll never admit you’re right about anything.”
“You don’t have to. I’m your mom, therefore, I’m right. Besides, I know things, and I don’t care if you believe me or not. That girl got under your skin when you were still a boy on the cusp of manhood. You’ve been running from her, and those pesky feelings, ever since. I’m having fun watching your arrogant, lofty, untouchable-self finally fall hard for a girl.”
“I’m not falling.”
I already fell. I’m absolutely and desperately in love with Grace.
“Like a brick.” She flashes a grin and goes back to making her famous pancake batter, giving me her back as she hunches over the bowl. Her brows lift when I peek over her shoulder.
“No peeking!”
“I will figure it out.”
She makes me smile. Mom is particular about her pancakes. She’s trying to fake me out and packed the countertop with all manner of baking ingredients, most of which don’t belong in pancake batter.
“Don’t let that bacon burn, sweetie.”
“It’s not going to burn.” I’m pretty damn good in the kitchen. Frying bacon is child’s play, and I’ve never burnt bacon in my life. I turn back to the stove while Mom finishes with her batter. “Do you think Grace is happy here?”
Mark’s words tumble in my thoughts. If Grace truly is unhappy, will she leave to pursue a more lucrative career elsewhere? The thought of losing her after recently finding her doesn’t sit well with me. In fact, it sits quite poorly.
“Why would you ask that? Grace loves it here.”
“It’s just something Mark said.”
“Ignore Mark. Grace