Page 44

“Yeah.” Fallon grinned brightly at her excitement.

“I’ll get the eggs.”

“You do that.” Fallon turned back toward the cabinets. “I’m getting coffee.”

Brinley pulled out everything to make the eggs while Fallon put together her first coffee of the morning. She’d have a second before she left for work that morning. If Fallon was going to teach Brinley how to make eggs, then she wasn’t going to do it for her.

“What kind of eggs do you like?”

“Over easy.”

“Really?” Fallon raised an eyebrow at her. There weren’t many kids out there that she knew of that liked over easy eggs. But she trusted that Brinley knew what she wanted. “Turn the stove on to medium-high heat, and then stick the pan on there.”

“Okay.” Brinley did exactly what she was told to do and then grabbed the butter she’d pulled from the fridge, putting a good dollop onto the pan.

“See, you already know what to do.” Fallon sipped her coffee and closed her eyes as the first waves of warmth hit her tongue and throat and belly.

“I’ve watched my mom make them a lot.”

“I bet. What grade are you in?” It was the easier way to ask how old she was without actually asking that question.

“Third.” Brinley grabbed a spatula and moved the melting butter around in the pan.

“Do you like school?”

Brinley shrugged slightly. “Mostly.”

“Well, that sounds about right.” Where had she been in third grade? She would have been nine. Fallon froze, her heart thudded hard. Her parents had died that next year, right at the beginning of fourth grade. She would have been watching the worst of everything unravel at home, and no one was doing anything to help.

“Do you like my mom?” Brinley continued to move the butter around the pan.

“Yes. I wouldn’t spend time with her if I didn’t.” Thankful for the distraction of the conversation and slight change in subject, Fallon focused on it and the coffee.

“My dad says that mom’s too crazy for anyone to like her.”

Fallon tensed sharply, jerking her hand. She hissed when a small amount of hot coffee spilled onto the edge of her thumb. Wincing, she grabbed a paper towel and cleaned up her mess.

“He says that her crazy is the kind that will take men down.”

“I really don’t think your dad should be talking about your mom that way.” Fallon dropped the paper towel into the trash and faced the stove again. “You need to crack the eggs into the pan. I like to add the salt and pepper now rather than later.”

“Okay.” Brinley snagged an egg from the carton and stood over the stove. She stared at it before smashing it on the top of the counter, over-cracking the side of it. Instead of falteringthough, Brinley lifted her hand over the hot pan and dug her thumbs into the shell, opening it so that the egg fell through.

The yolk broke, but Fallon said nothing. Brinley would probably just be happy that she was finally doing this on her own and learning how to make her own breakfast. Stepping closer, Fallon supervised the egg breaking method for the second one.

“Only put in two or three, however many you think you’ll eat. You can always come back and make more later if you’re still hungry.” Fallon was halfway through her cup of coffee by the time Brinley had all three eggs salted and peppered.

“My dad says you’re a cunt.”

Fallon sucked in a sharp breath and closed her eyes. “I suppose he said that after we met.”

Brinley nodded her head. “What does cunt mean?”

What the hell had Savannah thrown her into? This kid never stopped talking, did she? But the fact that she was asking what it meant was probably a good sign. She hadn’t been so exposed to that kind of language and hatred that she understood things she shouldn’t at this age.

“It’s a mean word to tell someone else to make that person feel bad.”

“Oh.”