I frown. “Why not? It’s food.”
“It’s frozen,” she quips.
“It won’t be after I’ve chucked it into the oven behind the house,” I retort. “Have you never had wild meat before?”
She shakes her head.
Fuck, she’s more sheltered than I thought.
“Unless you wanna tell me you’ve suddenly become a vegetarian,” I add.
“No, no, that’s Jill.”
The mere mention of her name makes me stab this knife straight into the meat.
“Don’t …” I say. “Don’t say her name.”
She swallows as I look her in the eyes.
“Ever again,” I add after a while.
She breaks eye contact and steps away. “Fine.”
With rage seething deep inside me, I pick up the knife again and continue my work, but Jasmine wistfully staring out the window distracts the fuck out of me.
I sigh out loud.
I don’t want her to fucking hate me, but everything I say and do does just that.
“Hey,” I say, and she only briefly turns her head to look at me. But her eyes are no longer filled with that passion I’ve grown used to, the fire that blazed ever since we were kids.
How do I bring it back?
“Wanna go out there and hunt with me?”
“No thanks,” she replies, and she looks away again.
Goddammit.
I chuck the knife into the kitchen sink and head outside with the meat on a plate, throwing it all into the oven to roast. It’ll take a while for the deer to be done, so it’ll probably be for lunch.
I go back inside and grab a few of the sandwiches out of the bag I took out of the freezer two days ago and put them on a plate.
“Hungry?” I ask her.
She only responds with a shrug.
Fuck.
I didn’t think I’d miss our fighting, but I guess anything is better than this ghost of a girl.
Sighing, I throw the plates down onto the table as well as sugar, milk, butter, and several different types of cheese and cured meats.
“Sit,” I say, scooting back a chair.
She does what I ask without complaining and stares at her plate as if she doesn’t know what to do with it.
“Eat,” I add.