The following morning, Levi climbed the steps from the backyard to the deck, a scent drifting on the air that didn’t belong. He entered the house to find Heather standing at the stove, stirring something with a rubber spatula.
And the word stirring was generous. Something like stilted flapping would be better. Whatever was in the pan didn’t spill out, so that was something.
stirring“What are you doing?” he asked, his tone a stitch more demanding that he’d have liked. “You shouldn’t be standing up.” He walked around the counter to find her kneeling on one of his dining chairs. “Oh.”
“Scrambled eggs,” she said. “And I did just fine, thank you very much. Left-handed too.” She raised her eyebrows at him as if to say so there.
so there.“Where did you get eggs?” Levi opened the fridge and pe
