Rise (Rise & Fall Duet #1) - Grahame Claire Page 0,35

at least part of the truth. To simply hang out together where there weren’t enormous responsibilities on my shoulders every day. Sometimes, it just got . . . lonely.

“You okay?”

“Long day.” I hugged her again, suddenly desperate to release what had been building all afternoon. The whisper in her ear surfaced before I could stop it. “My dad is out of prison.”

Chapter Twenty

Lincoln

“You really don’t have to escort us.”

I ignored Lexie’s protest and climbed out of her van. She was right. I didn’t have time. But she and Eric were exhausted. I barely needed sleep.

“Does all of this need to be unloaded?”

She unlocked the metal door to a dimly lit building in the Bowery. I hadn’t decided if parking in the alley was safer than the street. At least here, they could make it in and out of the kitchen quickly.

“These.” She pointed to a stack of boxes then frowned. “I think.”

Eric propped the door open with a rock. He’d been quiet since dinner, but if the continuous succession of yawns was any indication, he was just tired.

I made short work of carrying boxes while they set up their workspace. It was small, but clean. The appliances were commercial grade, though they were old.

How much time did they waste every day setting up and breaking down? If they had a place of their own, it could save them. Maybe they could store more supplies, make larger batches of food, grow a garden.

Stay out of it.

But I was already in it. Whatever it was.

Lexie looked at me over her shoulder as she rummaged through a cardboard carton. “Will you bring in a few of the boxes on the left side too? I think I mixed everything up earlier.”

I did as requested and secured the van and the door to the kitchen. She and Eric had already created chaos. Half-unpacked boxes littered the floor and there were items spread all over the metal counter. It reminded me of their apartment.

I shrugged off my jacket and found a stool to lay it over.

Eric watched as I undid my cufflinks. “Can you show me how to use those someday?”

“Of course.” I slipped the cufflinks that had belonged to my grandfather into my pocket and rolled up my sleeves.

“What are you doing?” Lexie stared at my forearms.

“Waiting for you to give me my next instructions.”

Her throat worked as she swallowed hard. “Do you have any kitchen experience?”

“I have one. Does that count?”

She snorted. “I guess it will have to.” She pointed her head to her right. “You do know what a refrigerator is, right?”

I wanted to laugh. The feeling was foreign and the noise didn’t know how to escape. “I think so.”

“It’s over there.” Eric thrust his finger toward the large stainless steel appliance.

“In the bottom drawer, there are carrots and celery. You can wash them.” Lexie bit her lip, though her eyes lit. “If you can find the sink.”

This time my face felt an odd pull to it on one side. “You’re challenging me.”

“Are you smiling?” She looked like she wished she’d kept a lid on her mouth.

“I’m not familiar with that either,” I returned easily, and she relaxed.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” she muttered.

I flipped on the water and rinsed the vegetables as instructed. It was strange having someone else tell me what to do. The dominant part of me wanted to take control, but I couldn’t. Because I didn’t know what needed to be done.

“Peel those, please.” Lexie gave me a quick demonstration of what she wanted before handing me the peeler.

She’d made it look easy. A carrot slipped out of my grasp as I struggled to master the technique.

Lexie didn’t complain at how long it took me to peel the pile. She and Eric moved through their tasks like a fine-tuned team. They sang along to a music playlist that thankfully didn’t include “Me and Bobby McGee” on repeat.

“Inner City Blues” by Marvin Gaye caught me by surprise. Most of what they listened to was upbeat . . . much like they were. This was a different side of their musical taste. One that I could fit in with.

“Finished.” I held up a peeled carrot.

“Perfect timing.” Lexie gathered a bundle and took it back to where she had been working. She chopped the vegetables with precision, then tossed them in a pot she had heating on the stove.

Neither of them referred to any notes or recipes. They knew the measurements and ingredients by heart.

“How long have you been doing this?”