How She Came Home

Chapter Twenty-One

Becca opened her eyes to the white ceiling of Freen's bedroom, the glow-in-the-dark stars still faintly glowing as dawn arrived early beyond the curtained windows, leaving rectangular outlines of golden light to break up the darkness. 

It was quiet, a faint ringing in her ears at the lack of traffic that always permeated even the quietest neighbourhoods in the city centre of National City. 

Instead, Becca listened to the house settle, quiet creaks and clicks interspersing the gentle rush of the ocean just beyond the back door.

No one stirred downstairs, and she assumed Nun had left for work hours earlier. Freen was still fast asleep, sprawled out with her face buried into a pillow and Becca rolled onto her side to watch the gentle rising and falling of her chest. 

She would have been content to stay there all morning, wrapped up beneath the pilled blankets, but, eventually, Freen's eyes fluttered open and she pushed herself up onto her elbows, blearily blinking as she reached out for her glasses on the nightstand. 

Pushing them onto her face, she blinked again and then her face creased with a sleepy smile as she looked at Becca.

"Morning," she hummed, leaning over to kiss her sweetly, voice thick with sleep.

"Did you sleep well?" Becca murmured, pushing hair out of Freen's face so she could kiss her cheek, the underside of her jaw, the soft spot beneath her earlobe, smiling against her tanned skin as she listened to the breath hitch in Freen's throat.

"Mm. You?"

"Like a baby."

It was true, and Becca felt well-rested as she stretched her limbs out, feeling her muscles roll beneath the skin. 

The stillness of the night, the routine of sleeping early, had left her feeling refreshed, and she climbed over Freen to slip out of bed, her bare feet hitting the cold floorboards and sending goosebumps rippling across her skin.

"Breakfast?" Freen asked, stifling a yawn as she swung her legs over the side of the bed, mismatched socks landing on the floor as she hunched forward for a moment, rubbing at her tired eyes.

"Sure."

Becca shooed Freen away from the bed, insisting that she would be able to make it by herself, even if she couldn't manage those crisp hospital corners drilled into Freen by her superiors in the army. 

Parting the curtains, Becca let early morning sunlight filter in and then followed the smell of brewing coffee down to the kitchen as she crept past closed doors.

The kitchen was warmed by the sunlight spilling in wide swathes across the room, a crisp quality to the day outside as birds twittered in the pines and a nearby neighbour mowed their lawn. 

Walking up behind Freen, Becca wrapped her arms around her waist and propped her chin on her shoulder, cold fingers digging into the soft skin of Freen's stomach, warm to the touch.

"Scrambled eggs?" Freen asked, turning her head slightly.

"Sure. Anything I can do?"

Nodding at the fridge, Freen lifted the steaming coffee pot and pulled two mugs closer. "Eggs are in the top of the fridge. There should be cream in the door."

Fetching them, Becca traded off for a cup of coffee, letting the heat seep into her palms as she gently blew on in and leaned back against the counter, watching as Freen cracked eggs with rhythmic ease. 

Sipping her coffee, Becca listened to the sounds of nature and let her shoulders drop, so used to the tension of being rushed off her feet that a few minutes of dwelling in the kitchen with nothing to do and nowhere to be left her feeling a little off-kilter.