Page 68 of Kiss Me Like I Didn't Kill You

Her words hit hard, but I refuse to give her the satisfaction.

Turning back to the counter, I resume chopping, onion first, then garlic. I set them aside for the sauce I plan to make, fresh pasta with truffle oil, wild porcini mushrooms, and a touch of oat cream.

The silence stretches between us until Adelaide decides she’s bored of it.

“To answer your earlier question about the fruit,” she says lazily, turning one of the peeled rambutans between her fingers, “Isaak’s allergic to them. So naturally, they’ve become my favourite.”

I still mid slice, the knife hovering above the board. “Since when do you know that sort of information about Isaak? I thought you two couldn’t stand each other.”

She only shrugs, offering no explanation, and my questions keep coming.

“Why would you eat something on purpose just because someone’s allergic to it? Not that it matters, he’s not even here. But really, if I think about it, how does one even discover they’re allergic to something that ridiculous?”

Adelaide’s lips twitch. “It is rather vile,” she says, taking a slow bite, the smirk settling back into place. Then, catching my confused expression, she rolls her eyes. “The fruit, Octavia. Not the man. Although”—she pauses, her gaze flickering toward the window—“the man is vile as well. He’s the devil himself. And if he ever decides to make an appearance and happens to dropdead from exposure to a rambutan, well… I can’t say I’d be mourning. Might even open a bottle of champagne.”

I blink at her, torn between laughter and concern. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re slow,” she says.

I exhale through my nose and turn back to the counter, deciding that finishing dinner is far more important than trying to decode Adelaide’s twisted sense of logic.

She sits at the island, elbows on the counter, watching me heat the pan. I toss in the ingredients, the sound of sizzling filling the quiet kitchen, until a sudden noise from outside slices through the air.

Before I can move, the door bursts open.

Octavia and Piper stumble inside, breathless and flushed, with not a single piece of firewood between them.

“A bear!” Octavia gasps, doubling over to catch her breath.

“A wolf,” Piper corrects flatly at the exact same moment, shooting my sister a look of pure disdain. “If you’d ever paid attention in class, you’d know bears hibernate during winter. So it was most certainly a wolf.” She gives an involuntary shudder.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Adelaide begins from across the room, rolling her eyes. “Itispossible for some bears not to hibernate. Hibernation is a flexible process, influenced by food availability and individual behaviour. Some adapt, find alternative food sources, even human waste—”

She’s cut off by the door slamming open a second time.

All three of them scream. Which, naturally, makes me scream as well.

I grab the nearest rolling pin, holding it out in front of me, while Adelaide snatches up one of the bar stools. The sight is almost comical, her small frame hidden behind a chair far too big for her, but somehow, she makes it look menacing.

I mouth for Octavia and Piper to duck, then hurl the rolling pin toward the door at the same time Adelaide flings the chair, and Octavia, throws… a boot.

“Go away, you monster!” my sister yells, completely useless in a crisis.

Chapter 23

Ophelia

A familiar voice breaks the chaos, tone bone dry.

“A rolling pin, I can handle. Good thing it wasn’t a bloody dildo this time.”

“I’m not even going to ask,” another voice replies, unimpressed. “Because whatever that means, I already know it’s something I don’t want to understand, and frankly couldn’t give less of a damn about.”

“What the actual hell are you doing here?” Octavia shrieks, her pitch somewhere between outrage and disbelief.

My pulse is still hammering from the fright, one hand pressed to my chest as I try to steady my breathing.

When I finally look toward the doorway, they’re all there—Arlo, Milo, Isaak, and Hunter, their boots dusted with snow.