On Thin Ice (Editing)

Chapter 11

“Morning,” Duncan mumbles as he walks into the kitchen.  I glance over at him to see that he has sleepy eyes and a small smile as he stretches his arms above his head.  “I smelled bacon.”  I nod and finish making breakfast, dishing it up and setting a plate in front of him at the kitchen counter.

“How did you sleep?” I ask, fixing my own plate.  I sit down next to him and dig in, taking note of his already half eaten plate.  I’ve always had a knack for cooking, but I got really good when my dad left, because my mother never really cooked.

“Like a rock,” he grins, but I still see a small flash of pain in his eyes that I assume is from our conversation the night before.  It felt great to let all of that out and allow Duncan even further into my hectic life, but speaking about it makes the emotional wounds feel fresh, which is a feeling I could deal without.  Duncan bumps my shoulder with his and teases me, saying, “That is, after you finally stopped snoring.  It was so loud that for a while I thought there was a bear in your room.”

I gasp and flick a forkful of eggs in his direction.  “I do not snore,” I protest.

“You kind of do,” he laughs.  “But it’s not loud.  It’s more of a little nose whistle.”  He catches my gaze and a small smile graces his lips.  “It’s pretty adorable, actually.”

His bright eyes are suddenly a bit darker and he watches me with an intense gaze.  “Yeah?” I ask, ruining whatever moment might have came out of that.  “Well, don’t get used to it.”

“You mean you don’t want to wake up next to me every morning for the rest of your life?” he jokes, placing a hand over his heart.  “I’m hurt, Violet.  Absolutely hurt.”  I roll my eyes and stack my plate on top of his, gesturing for him to take them to the sink.  He stands up and bows, before collecting the dishes and taking them in that direction.  I half expect him to just leave them sitting there, but he grabs a sponge and the bottle of Dawn out of the cabinet and gets to work.

I think about how comfortable and right this whole situation feels - waking up next to Duncan, cooking him breakfast, watching him clean the dishes.  And it scares the shit out of me.  I never realized just how far deep we are, and that’s something that I can’t afford right now.  Between work, training, and keeping up this stupid Vincent act, I couldn’t possibly spare as much time for him as he deserves, and I’d be lying to him.  I glance back to the sink, where Duncan has somehow managed to get water everywhere.  He sends me a sheepish smile, grabs a dish towel, and mops it up.  I watch his muscles flex beneath his shirt and grin at the way his tongue is sticking out between his teeth, an adorable sign of concentration.

Yeah, I’m definitely in too deep.  This needs to stop.

“So, are you doing anything today?” Duncan asks, putting the rest of the dishes away.  

“Hockey practice,” I say reflexively, and my eyes widen.  “You have.  Hockey practice, you have.”  I hold my breath and hopes that he buys my awkwardly delivered line.

He raises his eyebrows and gives me a calculating look before shrugging.  “Okay then, Yoda,” he laughs.  “But I don’t have practice until tonight.  Do you want to hang out until then?”  I nod and start to walk out of the kitchen to get ready for the day, but he grabs my hand and pulls me back towards him.  “Wait, Violet.  I wanted to tell you that you look really pretty right now.”