AUGUST | NH |

TEN

Niall

"Spaghetti? Again?"

With my fork in my hand, I look over at Bradley with a pointed look. "So?"

Shaking his head, Bradley laughs. "Nothing. Just saying I've never seen you eat the same meal each night that we are on the same shift."

I roll my eyes as I look down at the bowl in front of me, shrugging my shoulders. "It's good."

Pushing his chair back, he laughs before picking up his own plate of food his wife sent with him and reaches down to scratch Wilson right behind his ears. "If you say so."

Smiling down at my food, I think about how the taste is good — but the memory is better.

And who the memory is with.

After almost losing my grip on reality with Archer the other night, I had to force my hands to do something before they found themselves in places they shouldn't be. Not that I didn't want to find my hands— and my fingers— in certain places, but I didn't want to race there.

With Archer all I wanted to do was take my time... Time that wouldn't last forever.

Thinking about her moving around in my kitchen brings a smile to my face as I take another bite, shaking my head a little at her antics.

The right music.

A glass of wine.

A snack to eat along the way.

All of the things Archer deemed the 'most important' when it came to her cooking process. Then there was me, following behind her, making sure we didn't have to call 911.

Keeping the speaker away from the sink.

Using a plastic cup so a glass didn't shatter.

Making sure the so-called snack didn't get close to raw meat.

Archer was a disaster in the kitchen, a total fucking disaster. Yet if I close my eyes, I can almost feel her standing in front of me with my chin on her shoulder and my arm around her waist, making sure she's paying attention to the stovetop in front of her.

What normally took me about twenty minutes at the most turned into an hour long event, one that I wouldn't be forgetting anytime soon. Not that I would want to forget lifting her up on the counter, watching her take a bite of her first bowl of homemade spaghetti that she made.

So here I am, a few days later, still eating the leftovers from the girl that has me so tied up in knots it feels like I can't think straight. There was something that just felt right when it came to her. I can't pinpoint it and to be honest? I don't really want to.

With the same dumb smile on my face, I finish my last bite before making my way into the kitchen to wash my bowl and pack it away with my things that needed to be taken back to my house when my shift ended.

"Are you ready for the game?"

Glancing to my left, I see Jordan Scott leaning against the kitchen counter as bubbles cover my hands from the dishwater. "Of course. Are you?"

"Hell yeah! I think I'm even more ready for the burgers after. I swear that I could eat at Johnson's every damn day." Even though I've just eaten, my stomach rumbles at the idea of one of Johnson's famous burgers.

Every year the fire departments of Cape Charlotte and the fire department from Parkville get together for a charity softball game... One that was always followed by everyone getting together over beers and food at the restaurant that could single handedly ruin anyone's diet.