What a morning it had been.

A strangled laugh escaped my lips as I fiddled with the hem of my shirt, trying to absorb everything that had happened. I glanced around the kitchen, pausing when I caught a glimpse of myself in the metallic reflection of the refrigerator.

Eyes wide, I brought my hand to my unruly hair, touching the untamed curls.

It must have been a sight.

Mortified, I tugged on the elastic band that was around my wrist, pulling my hair into a low bun. I then rubbed at my eyes, straightening my shirt. I had just been about to move, realizing I hadn't even brushed my teeth, when Elijah walked back in.

"I'm beginning to think that you enjoy being stubborn."

He chuckled, but his slightly furrowed eyebrows told me he was also serious.

I had forgotten that quickly that I wasn't supposed to be moving.

"Sorry. I am not used to being bossed around," I joked, trying to ease his concern.

"I can see that." He laughed.

Elijah took a step closer, glancing at the small clock above the kitchen door when it chimed. I couldn't help the slow onslaught of my eye when he looked away.

He looked completely put together, despite having just woken up. How was that even possible? While I looked like I was homeless when I woke up, he looked like he was about to leave for an Armani photoshoot or whatever the heck.

He cocked an eyebrow when my eyes met his again, and I knew that I had been caught. I turned away quickly, embarrassment rising. Honestly, it wasn't even my fault. It wasn't every day that a tall, tattooed knockout, stood in my kitchen.

"So what are we cooking?"

I was deeply thankful that he wasn't going to mention my obvious appreciation of his looks.

"Right. Cooking."

Needing to distract myself from my own embarrassment I jumped off the counter, without thinking. I doubled over as soon as my feet hit the ground, my reaction immediate.

Should have stayed on the counter.

Elijah was beside me in a heartbeat, and I kept my gaze on the ground as I took a deep breath.

"I know that I have no place to tell you what to do, but that just proves that you shouldn't be moving around. Someone who isn't in pain wouldn't react like that."

"I know," I huffed when the pain had decreased. "But I just can't keep that still...I'm not used to it."

That was a lie.

I had never had a problem with not moving before, the art of PET scans and EEG appointments having taught me how to sit still. But today was different. Maybe it was the fact that he was here and being way beyond perfect. I wasn't sure, but for some reason, my body couldn't seem to stay still.

I held up a hand, signaling that I was okay, as he rested his hand on my lower back. "I'm okay," I muttered breathlessly. "I will just take it easy," I added meeting his eyes again and choosing to ignore the exasperation on his face.

"You are really killing me."

I laughed at that, noting how he was once again rubbing tiny circles near my waistline. When I straightened. I test out my leg, ignoring the way his frown deepened in disapproval.

"Pancakes."

Elijah shot me a questioning look, and I walked over to the stove slowly. I made a point to put less pressure on my left leg than on my right.

"We are making pancakes," I clarified. I was glad that since I wasn't facing him my grimace was concealed. I placed my palms on the edge of the sink, giving my body some relief from the pressure of holding myself up. "Do you still want to help me?"

I turned to look at him with a raised eyebrow, seeing that he still hadn't moved.

"Yeah," he drawled out, lowering his eyebrows. "But no more jumping off counters."

"Whatever you say."

Shaking his head with an amused smile, Elijah walked over to where I was standing, placing a hand on my waist as he moved to the right of me.

My playful mood disappeared just like that, heat running through my body like lava.

He should really warn me before he was going to do...well do anything actually. His presence was too overwhelming for my poor girlish hormones.

"Do you know all the ingredients we are going to need?"

"I was just going to look it up," I said, my voice strained. Oblivious to my reaction, he nodded and started looking around the kitchen.

How could you have that much effect on someone and not know?

"Where do you keep your measuring cups?"

"The second drawer."

He opened the drawer and pulled the shiny red measuring cups out. I was surprised when he didn't just set them on the counter, instead, traveling to my pantry and the fridge pulling out more ingredients. Flour, sugar, baking soda, then salt.

His eyebrows rose when he saw the astonished look I was giving him. "What, I am not completely useless," he said with a grin. I wasn't sure what that meant, but I was more than willing to find out.

"Okay."

I held my hands up in mock surrender. I surveyed him as he began to work, his hands knowing what to do perfectly. When he glanced up, I focused on my hands feeling embarrassed at having been caught. But it wasn't before I caught the soft smile that flitted to his lips.

I really needed to be more discreet.

Elijah traveled to the fridge. He pulled out the milk, before glancing at the counter where we kept the fruit. He pointed to the last lemon.

"Can I use this?"

"Yes. What are you going to do with it though?"

He grabbed the yellow fruit in his hands, tossing it in the air skillfully.

"You guys don't have buttermilk so I am going to make some. For each cup of milk, you mix in a tablespoon of lemon juice."

I nodded silently, as he folded a napkin, placing the lemon on it, before cutting it in half.

Seriously. Was there anything he couldn't do?

"What do you want me to do?"

He glanced up, his eyes going to the eggs. "What I would like for you to do is to sit down and stay off your feet. But since I know that you are not going to do that, you could crack the eggs."

Thankful that he was allowing me to do something other than get myself all hot and bothered by the sight of him in my kitchen, I slowly made my way over to where he was standing, reaching for the carton of eggs. From the corner of my eyes, I saw him place the measuring spoons with a sigh.

Silently he walked past me, grabbing one of the island chairs and started dragging it over to where I was.

"I would feel better if you sat and did it."

Oh.

I shrugged.

"I think I can stand. If I put my weight on my left-"

The look on his face had me shutting my mouth.

"Don't make me beg you," he said with a chuckle. "For you, I will do it."

My breathing hitched.

"Very funny." My words were airy and I shook my head, willing myself not to be affected by the heat in his eyes.

Words like that were dangerous. Especially when they came from the mouth of a man like him.

Unfortunately, I'd fallen right into their trap.

Every passing second brought him closer and closer until the boundaries of personal space were well past breached. I knew I should've moved, or at least played off my reaction somehow, but I remained motionless and his eyes remained on mine.

It was like I was prey and he was the entire hunt.

I swallowed when Elijah stopped in front of me, his hands moving to rest gingerly at my waist. Coupled with the the heat of his gaze, the touch was electrifying, granting me no freedom from the ache of sudden restlessness.

Silently, he maneuvered our bodies until I was no longer facing him, the window above the sink coming into view. I had no idea how he had managed to execute the move as smoothly as he had but it mattered less and less as the heat at my back intensified.

"Why are you so stubborn?"

I didn't know how to answer him. Not when he was so close.

Before I could find an answer, there was a tug on my hair, and my eyes widened as wild curls cascaded past my shoulders. I gripped the counter, my heartbeat quickening, when he swept my hair to the side, his gentle breaths lingering just an inch above my ear.

"When I said not to move, that included putting your hair up, Sweetheart. I quite like it when it's down."

I was going to pass out.

My lips parted as warmth began to spread through me, singing through my veins until all I was aware of was him.

I still had yet to answer, unable to think as his proximity spurred my wild imagination.

My eyes closed, anticipation taking over as images of him spinning me around and letting me taste his words on my lips took over.

I inhaled slowly.

"Rowan..."

"Yes?"

The scraping of the chair against the floor hit my ears, and before I could move, the warmth of his touch transcended upon me as he placed his hands on my shoulders. My heart jumped, and my pulse quickened when I felt him take a step.

"The only way I am going to let you help is if you sit. Please."

I didn't say anything for two reasons.

The first was because something inside my head told me it would have been childish to protest since I was in pain. But the second reason...the one that had my body tensing in all the right ways as my stomach dipped...was because he was still undeniably close.

His hands remained on my shoulders, and his head lowered, the whispers of his words hitting my skin. My eyes closed involuntarily.

"I don't think you understand how hard it is for me to see you in pain." I sucked in a breath. "I'm still angry, sweetheart. And I am begging you to stay still for me."

I wasn't sure what it was that brought me to glance up, our eyes meeting and my mind taking in the lack of distance between us. My face warmed when his eyes dipped, lingering just below my eyes before rising slowly. The stirring in the pit of my stomach intensified as I exhaled slowly, letting my own eyes travel.

I shouldn't have let my eyes wander. I should have fought it. But I didn't, and he definitely noticed. The way his hands tightened slightly on my shoulders showed me that he had noticed. But it was the way his eyes held mine when I glanced up again, his chest falling slowly, that proved it to me.

"You know...." He whispered lowly, his voice washing over me in rivers, before trailing off. I waited for him to finish but he didn't, closing his mouth instead.

"I know what?" I hadn't known my voice to ever sound so breathy before, but I wasn't surprised, it was like he had stolen away my ability to breathe.

Despite my question Elijah still said nothing. Cool air washed over me when instead of finishing his sentence he took a step back clearing his throat. With him, he took the trance I had been in as he shook his head once. He turned then, and I watched in part astonishment and relief as he returned to where the ingredients were laid out on the counter.

The astonishment was because I had never before reacted that way to the presence of a man. It was a belief made with surety. My memory didn't need to be intact for it to be true. I just knew.

And the relief...it was because what had just happened terrified me. Even though I knew that it could mess things up....even though I knew that it was probably best that he had taken a step back...it scared me to realize that I wished he hadn't.

I wished he had made my silent contradicting wishes a reality.

I finally managed to tear my eyes away, opening the carton of eggs and taking one out. We prepared breakfast in that silence minutes passing before my heart returned to its normal pace. It was quiet, except for when Elijah would occasionally ask if I was okay, Each time I assured him that I was.

And I wasn't lying. I was perfectly at peace as I watched him mix the pancake batter, and cook. When the food was finally done, I laughed when instead of letting me walk to the table, he pushed my chair over to the counter with me in it.

"You know I have to walk eventually right?"

"We are going to postpone that as long as possible."

I just shook my head, watching as he placed the food on the counter, before sitting next to me. I made my plate, my eyes widening when I took a bite of the pancakes. I closed my eyes as I chewed, savoring the delicacy.

His eyes had darkened, training on my mouth when I opened my eyes. I stopped chewing holding back a shiver.

"This is so good," I said when I swallowed, distracting myself from his gaze. "I knew that you were hiding something up your sleeve."

He chuckled, finally giving me a chance to breathe as his eyes strayed from mine, flitting to the ground.

"So Rowan," he said after a second. "I am curious to hear more about your story."

"My story?" I questioned, raising an eyebrow.

He dipped his chin, his lashes lowering. "Yes, your story. What is it that makes you who you are?"

I studied him and the way he spoke as if it was a normal question. There was nothing wrong with it, I just truly hadn't been expecting it.

It was a hard question to think about, especially when there were so many parts of me that were missing.

"Well you already know that it is just me and my mom," I said after a while, picking my words carefully. "I do have extended family but we aren't really close." I paused, and when I saw that he actually seemed interested in what I had to say I continued. "My mom was a foster kid for the longest, and my dad's parents were not very fond of their son marrying someone who was..." I trailed off not wanting to offend.

"White?" Elijah shrugged. "Don't worry you can speak freely I get it. I am white and there is no offense in seeing that. I think it is perfectly fine to acknowledge race. I see your color and it only adds to the appeal."

Lord have mercy on my soul.

"Yeah," I breathed, my chest fluttering. "But anyway it's mainly just me and my mom. I have lived in Oregon all of my life, and I hope that eventually, I can expand my horizons."

"What do you want to do after we graduate?" He asked a moment later.

"Well I am a business major with a focus on management, so hopefully it will land me a semi-decent job. I might try and get my master's too. I have been considering going to Baylor for a while now." I chuckled.

His head tilted. "No, I mean what do you want to do?"

I eyed him confusedly. "I am hoping to get a job and hopefully rise in ranks enough to get a management position," I said louder, in case he hadn't heard clearly the first time.

He stopped eating, with a grin. "You keep telling me what you are going to do, but I asked what do you want to do, love."

"I just told you," I said, not catching on to where he was going with this.

"But you didn't," he said. "Because whenever you talk about something that you are interested in, your eyes light up, and you talk as if the topic is the only thing in the world that makes you happy. Like talking about your dad." I stared at him. "Just now you were frowning a bit."

I placed down my fork, not knowing how to react for the millionth time that morning.

"And you picked up all of that in the short span that you have known me?" I finally asked.

"I pay attention to certain things that interest me."

His eyes stayed focused on mine, and I chewed at the corner of my lip. I debated if I was going to tell him what it was that I really wanted to do after I graduated. It was weird, Elijah and I hadn't known each other that long, but whenever we were around each other, conversation flowed like we had known each other forever.

"I want to own my fine arts studio," I whispered into the air, deciding it was harmless to tell him. If I were to lie, he would just see straight through it.

He smiled. Not just a regular smile, but a full-blown, teeth showing universe exploding smile.

"Ah, there it is," he said.

"There is what?"

"Just now when you said that you wanted to open a performing arts studio, your eyes lit up," he said. I rolled my eyes, but the corners of my mouth tilted up a little more. "Oh, and there's the smile."

There were just some people you couldn't hide from.

"Why don't you go for it?" he asked.

I shrugged. "I don't know. It just doesn't seem as promising. Owning a studio would take a lot of work. First I would have to find a place, and then I would have to gain enough prominence to bring people in. That could take a long time, and there is no promise that I would be successful."

"So you are just going to play it safe?"

"I'm not playing it safe. I am just walking where there is a surety that I will be economically stable, and where I know that I can be successful," I said.

"That would be playing it safe, Love."

I didn't know why, but the phrase irked me.

"Well if what I am doing, is playing it safe, then I am comfortable where I am at."

"But what's the fun in that. Don't you ever just want to leap of faith. Go against the odds. Ignore what people say, and go for what you want. We play it safe too much, As humans we are told to stick to the path that society has paved out for us, too scared of confrontation."

I sighed.

"I know that," I said looking down at my hand. "I live each day wishing that I could have that same carefree attitude, but I wasn't blessed with an easy life like that. I live each day not knowing what is going to happen next." I placed my fork down on my plate. "Heck, I don't even know the things that I should know. Living life like this is the only thing that grounds me."

I glanced up, finding his eye trained on me softly. But it was the curiosity that scared me. I had said way more than I probably should have.

I took a breath, standing up and bringing my plate to my sink. I hadn't meant to say all of that but he had struck a nerve because he was right. I did want to live on the wild side. I wanted to take risks and live life. I wanted to open a studio, and show off the beautiful and untainted wings, that society tried so hard to clip.

Unfortunately, a dysfunctional brain didn't make that easy to do.

Elijah was quite behind me, as I washed my dish, staring into the soapy suds as if they would give me the answer to all my problems.

I let out a deep breath, regretting that I had just had an outburst like that. Truth was, I wasn't mad at him. I was irritated with myself.

"I'm sorry," I said and turned towards him. "That was dramatic."

"I don't think it was." Elijah faced me, his eyes skimming mine. "I get it, Rowan." He smiled a little bit. "You don't have to apologize. We all live as caged birds one way or the other, our choice of freedom stripped away from us before we were even born. It would be a shame if you didn't get angry every once in a while."

He stood up, and joined me at the sink, placing his plate down. I watched as he squirted some dishwashing liquid onto a sponge and washed it silently. He dried the plate, placing it gently in the dishwasher, before leaning up against the counter when he was done.

"Is that how you feel?" I asked quietly. "Like you are trapped?"

His hazel eyes scorched my skin watching me from underneath thick eyelashes. A small smile formed on his mouth. Yet expression was soft, yet full of something I couldn't place until he spoke.

"Don't you?"

Guilt.

****

A few minutes passed, without us saying anything. His question lingered in the air unanswered.

I didn't need to say anything. We both knew the truth.