kitchen.
The sight of their cheesecake plates in the sink brought a lump to his throat, along with the memory of gentle fingers in his hair, soothing murmurs, and a sense of peace and safety that’d enabled him to fall so deeply asleep he hadn’t even felt her disentangle herself from him.
He couldn’t remember the last time that’d happened, if ever.
Sighing, he filled the sink with soapy water and washed the plates and silverware. When he was done, he stood uncertainly in the middle of the kitchen, the soft ticking of the appliances the only noise.
What else could he do? She’d probably be getting up soon, and it’d be nice if—after everything she’d done for him—she could wake up to something.
He discarded the idea of running out to buy breakfast. Lani would appreciate the effort more than the result, homemade over store-bought every time. Geo gazed at the fridge, imagining it covered with childish creations someday—finger paintings, crayon drawings, even stick figures.
Each one would get a pleased exclamation, and a hug and kiss, before finding its place of honor amidst all the others...
He squared his shoulders. Okay, he’d cook for her. It wouldn’t be amazing, but he’d try. Searching her tiny pantry, he came up with a box of pancake mix. Ah, perfect. Pancakes were idiot-proof, weren’t they?
“Well, almost,” he thought ruefully a few minutes later as the one he was trying to flip broke apart. “Not as easy as it looks.”
“Good morning.” Lani’s husky voice behind him made him jump and whirl around, spatula in hand. “What’s going on?”
Oh, my. In a spaghetti-strap tank and cotton pajama pants, she looked sleep-warmed and cuddly, and the sudden, overwhelming desire to take her in his arms had him spinning back toward the stove.
“Um, you know, breakfast,” he grunted. “Although I’m not doing so great a job.” He lifted his chin toward a nearby plate and its pathetic stack of uneven, broken pancakes, wincing when she crossed the room to look at them.
“Mmm. They don’t have to look pretty to taste good, do they? I can’t wait.”
Despite a sneaking suspicion that she was only being polite, warmth flooded him at her approval. As he finished with the last few pancakes, she sliced some bananas and made a pot of coffee, both of them working in a companionable silence.
When they were finally seated across from each other, Lani lifted her glass of orange juice and tapped it against Geo’s mug. “Cheers.”
“Cheers,” he mumbled, holding his breath as she forked up her first bite. She chewed thoughtfully for a moment, then pronounced them delicious, her tone grave but her eyes twinkling.
“Thank you, Geo. What’s the occasion?”
He knew she meant more than the breakfast—she meant his sudden appearance, then the way he’d clammed up and fallen asleep on her lap. Still, her demeanor was relaxed, and there was no demand to her words. That strange sense of peace and safety wrapped itself around him again.
“My platoon sent me home.”
That surprised her, he could tell, but her gaze remained steady on his. “Because?”
He carefully laid his fork down and clasped his fingers together in his lap, his heart starting to pound.
I’m going to say this, and afterward, nothing will ever be the same.
“Because one year ago, my teammate killed himself. And it’s all my fault.”
* * *
Lani could feel the blood drain from her cheeks.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before,” Geo went on shakily, “but I couldn’t—” He squeezed his eyes shut, anguish in every line of his body, as she struggled to process what she’d just heard.
One year ago? Was he talking about Cade? Cade the bet-maker, motivator, hero and mentor?
In the next instant, she was up and out of her chair. She dropped to her knees next to him. “Breathe, Geo,” she murmured, taking one of his ice-cold hands in hers. “Take a deep breath.”
He did, and it sounded so much like a sob that he flinched and tried to pull away. Lani hung on to him, moving her thumb in soothing circles over his wrist. “First of all, I need you to know something, something I wish even one person had told me back when Tyler died.”
His throat worked as he swallowed, his eyes still closed.
“You’re not alone, okay? No matter how much you think you are, you’re not. If nothing else, I want you to trust me on that.” Steeling herself, she went on, “And secondly, despite what your brain is telling you, Cade’s death is not your fault.”
Immediately he ripped his