“I’ve never spoken about that night to anyone. I knew it would only hurt my family if they found out the truth, so I kept it to myself. But I swore I’d never lie to anyone else. I’d keep this one secret, but to make up for it, I’d be honest in every other way possible.”
That explained it. She’d always wondered why he was so dead set on honesty, even to the point of painfulness. Now she understood. He was already being eaten up by someone else’s lie, he didn’t need any others in his life. But could his honesty ever make up for his father’s treachery in his own mind? “Does that help?” she asked.
“Some days. At the very least, I can convince myself that I’m nothing like him because of it. Other days, I realize there’s nothing I can do to make up for what my father has done to our family and to countless women he’s used over the years. Sometimes I wake in a cold sweat, terrified I’m going to be just like him someday.”
As Grant finished speaking, Pepper noticed a solemn clarity in his voice. This wasn’t a loose tongue caused by drugs. It might have initially given him the courage to start the story, but the medication had worn off and he finished it all on his own. It was just raw, honest memories being shared after an awful day. It was that infamous intimacy she’d always desired but had rarely achieved.
“You’re not your father, Grant.” She ran a soothing palm over his bare chest, avoiding his injuries. “You’re better than he is.”
His response was small, quiet, and unbelievably sad. “You don’t know that.”
The faint smell of something burning jerked Grant awake. He shot up in bed, his heart racing. Fire.
Then his fuzzy brain was finally able to detect a hint of maple syrup and bacon mixed in with it. It wasn’t a fire. It was breakfast. Was he hallucinating? Until he looked down and saw the bandage on his arm, he wasn’t entirely sure if he’d imagined the last twenty-four hours or not. He felt like he had the worst hangover of his life with a throbbing head, sore muscles, and more than a few mystery pains. Even his eyeballs seemed to hurt this morning, probably from the smoke.
None of that held a candle to his arm, though. That was indescribably unpleasant. Like someone had scraped a wire brush over the worst sunburn he’d ever had. He groaned when he shifted his arm and eased against the pillows. He’d sure done it this time. This wasn’t just a bounce-back injury.
He closed his eyes and started drifting to sleep. Grant was tugged back to consciousness by the sound of a woman humming and cabinets closing in his kitchen. That’s right—he’d smelled breakfast, so someone had to be making it. His memories became clearer and he realized who was in his house: Pepper.
Sitting up more slowly than he would’ve liked, Grant threw back the covers and placed his bare feet on the concrete floors of his loft. The cold floor was a shock to his system, making him jerk and regret it as every muscle in his body protested. He pushed through it, though, standing up and stumbling out into his kitchen in his flannel pants.
Pepper was at the stove. Her red hair was pulled up into a messy bun and she was wearing nothing but one of his Fire and Rescue T-shirts. It nearly swallowed her, but she’d never looked sexier. He only wished she was here making breakfast and wearing his shirt under different circumstances.
“Morning,” he said, with a gravelly, smoky voice.
Pepper turned to him and smiled. “Good morning. How is my patient feeling today?”
“Like I spent the evening in hell,” he admitted. “I’m bruised, beaten, and parts of me are slightly well-done. But it got you here to my place, so it’s not all bad.”
Pepper pulled out one of the chairs at his small dining table and gestured for him to sit down. “If you wanted me to stay the night at your place, you could’ve just asked. No need to set yourself on fire.”
“I’ll remember that for next time.”
“Breakfast is almost ready. Once you get some food in you, you can take your pills. That should help.”
“That would be wonderful.” He could feel every muscle fiber in his body move, mainly because it hurt. Something to take the edge off would be great. “What are we having?”
Pepper scraped the contents of a skillet onto a plate and placed it on the table in front of him. “I made scrambled eggs with cheese, bacon, and pancakes with maple syrup. The bacon is a little on the crispy side, sorry.”
That was what he’d smelled earlier. Fortunately, he liked his bacon near burned anyway. The pancakes were cut up into tiny pieces on his plate and were already drizzled in syrup and melted butter. She’d thought of everything. Pepper followed the plate with a fork and a tall, cold glass of milk.
“Milk?” he frowned. The only reason he even had milk in his refrigerator was to add to his coffee. He hadn’t sat down to drink a glass of the stuff since he was about ten and his mother had made him drink it with dinner.
“You need protein and you need to rest. Milk gives you the protein. Drink up.”
Her tone was very final, so he stopped arguing. He couldn’t complain about her being a strict nurse when he’d demanded she be the one to care for him. Besides, he’d never had a woman stay the night and cook for him before. He needed to take full advantage of it. Instead of complaining, he took a large sip of his milk and dove into his breakfast. He was starving, for some reason.
“Did we eat dinner last night?”
“Yep. I picked up a Five Guys bacon cheeseburger for you on the way home. You devoured it.” He had no recollection. That medicine they gave him was so strong that the entire evening was like a fuzzy dream he couldn’t quite remember. That whack on his head probably hadn’t helped. Pieces came to him in short flashes he wasn’t able to put together. For some reason, thoughts of his old scout meetings came to mind although that made no sense at all. He hadn’t had anything to do with all that since he was in the seventh grade.
Pepper sat down opposite him after a few minu
tes with her own plate and a handful of medicine bottles. She dosed out a couple of pills and handed them to him. “Take these.”
He did as he was told, chasing the medicine with more milk and some bacon. About ten minutes later, as he scooped the last bite of eggs into his mouth, he noticed his limbs felt heavier, like his bones had been filled with lead instead of marrow. The aches and pains had faded to a dull annoyance in the back of his mind, but the medication seemed to muffle everything along with the pain.
“Is your medicine kicking in?”