Page 48 of The Fire

“What? Of course they do. They get all caramelized that way!”

“But they getcooked.” Parker shook his head, disgusted, as he put the first set of pancakes on a plate. “And don’t you think for a minute that you can distract me with thoughts of your weird eating habits. We were talking about your mom.”

“I think we’ve exhausted the topic,” I disagreed. “Mom’s doing well. Lives in Portland still, in a cute Victorian with a stone mason named Bruce. He’s a nice guy. I’ve driven up to visit a couple times, but she doesn’t come back here.”

“Ever?”

I lifted one eyebrow. “Yeah, imagine that. Leaving O’Leary and not coming back for years and years.”

Parker pursed his lips. “So you just… stayed? By yourself?”

“Didn’t have a whole lot of choice. Well, I mean, Idid. But my dad was here. My job was here. The house. It was easier to stay.”

“Even after he…” Parker paused with his spatula poised above the pan.

“Died? Drank himself to death?” I said impatiently. “Yes. Not all of us need to leave O’Leary, Parker.”

I really hoped he wouldn’t ask me if I’d everwantedto, though, because I’d thought about that alot. But where would I have gone? To Boston, only to see how well Parker had moved on and how thoroughly he’d forgotten me? No fucking way.

“Yeah, but…” he began.

And just like that, I was done. “Parker, the coffee is really good, and the bacon is even better, but I think we’re done here. Rules exist for a reason,” I teased.

Parker frowned. “Please. Like you’re the rule follower of the two of us. Besides, I thought the fact that you had my dick in your mouth last night meant I was allowed to ask questions.”

“You’ve used up your quota. It was a good blowjob, but notthatgood, if you know what I mean.”

“This rule gets more ridiculous by the moment.”

I knew it, but I still didn’t want to talk about this shit, so I pushed myself off the counter and went to grab a plate and some silverware without saying a word.

Parker sighed like he was disappointed, and I tried to tell myself I didn’t care. He dished up the pancakes, I got out the syrup, and we sat down at the kitchen table to eat next to his plants.

“Still howling out there,” Parker observed before I’d taken my first bite. “Wonder how long the power will be out.”

“Doesn’t matter. I have a generator in the garage. Not enough to power the house, but enough that we can charge our phones.”

Parker grimaced. “Did you have to tell me that? Now I feel like I have to keep the damn thing charged.”

I snorted. “This way you’ll be able to check in with all your friends. I’m sure they’ll be worried about you.”

Parker raised an eyebrow. “You think Cal’s losing sleep over me? Bet he and Ash are fucking on a bed of leftover cupcakes.”

“Wow. That’s… oddly specific.”

He chuckled.

“I was thinking more of your friends in Boston.” I cut into my pancakes. “If they’re following the weather they’re gonna be wondering if you made it to Arizona.”

“Uh. No. They definitely aren’t. No one there even knows I—” He shook his head. “You really have the strangest idea of what my life in Boston was like, you know that?”

I shoveled pancakes into my mouth so I didn’t have to answer, and when the flavor hit my tongue, I moaned. “Holy shit, Parker.”

Parker grinned. “Good?”

“Holyshit,” I repeated, taking another bite. “What’d you put in these?”

“The usual. Flour. Vanilla. Milk. Sugar. Vinegar.”