The smell of scorched bread and eggs that were more liquid than solid filled the kitchen. I stared at the plate in front of me, willing it to look like a decent breakfast. It didn’t. Still, I’d tried. For once, I wanted to do something that felt normal.
Footsteps creaked on the stairs. I glanced up just as Tyler came down, rubbing at his eyes, his hair sticking out wildly on one side. No perfect comb, no hair gel — just messy, real, boyish Tyler. A laugh bubbled out of me before I could stop it, and my cheeks warmed when he looked my way.
“What?” he muttered, blinking at me like the morning light itself was offensive.
“Nothing,” I said too quickly, turning back to the ruined eggs. The smile tugging at my lips betrayed me.
Sage swept in next, her energy buzzing like she’d had three cups
