Under the Grit

Wicked Game

Evangeline woke slowly, the sound of waves crashing against the shore drawing her into consciousness. The faint light of dawn filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow across the room. For a moment, she lay still, staring up at the ceiling as the events of the past days flickered through her mind. The tension, the laughter, the heartbreak-it all felt like too much to process.

She pushed herself out of bed, the cool floorboards beneath her feet sending a small shiver up her spine. Determined to shake the heaviness that clung to her, she grabbed a fresh set of clothes and headed to the bathroom.

The hot water cascaded over her skin, washing away the remnants of sleep and soothing the tightness in her muscles. She let out a long breath, tilting her head back as the steam filled the small space, wrapping her in warmth. For a moment, she let herself pretend that the world outside didn't exist-that there were no complicated feelings, no awkward glances, no unresolved questions waiting to ambush her.

By the time she emerged, her damp hair combed through and pulled into a loose braid, she felt marginally more like herself. Dressed in a simple tank top and denim shorts, she padded barefoot into the kitchen, the smell of freshly brewed coffee greeting her like an old friend.

She stopped short when she saw Arthur already there, leaning casually against the counter with a mug in hand. He was dressed simply in a faded gray t-shirt and jeans, his hair slightly tousled, as if he hadn't bothered to run a hand through it yet. He glanced up when she entered, his expression unreadable.

"Mornin'," he said, his voice low and quiet.

"Morning," she replied, her own voice softer than usual.

She moved toward the coffee pot, feeling the weight of his gaze on her as she poured herself a mug. The air between them was thick, the silence louder than it should have been. Arthur didn't say anything more, returning his focus to the cup in his hand, but his presence was impossible to ignore.

Evangeline leaned against the counter opposite him, sipping her coffee as she tried to appear unaffected. Her eyes flicked to him briefly, catching the tension in his posture and the way he seemed deliberately focused on anything but her.

If he was avoiding her, it wasn't hard to guess why. The memory of their argument at the restaurant and everything that had happened between them afterward felt like an open wound, raw and unhealed.

She wanted to say something-to break the silence or maybe demand an explanation for his distance-but the words stayed trapped in her throat. Instead, she took another sip of her coffee, her gaze drifting to the window as the morning light spilled into the room.

Evangeline stood motionless, her coffee mug warm in her hands as the faint rustle of movement broke the quiet tension in the kitchen. Her heart sank when she glanced over her shoulder to see Mary entering the room, her presence as commanding as ever, even in the early morning light. Mary's gaze swept over her, lingering just long enough to convey her disdain before shifting to Arthur, a smirk curling on her lips.

Evangeline swallowed hard, the weight in her chest pressing heavier as she moved to sit at the kitchen bar, placing a safe distance between herself and whatever scene was about to unfold. She kept her gaze on her coffee, willing herself to remain indifferent even as her pulse quickened.

Mary strode over to Arthur with practiced ease, her silk robe loosely tied around her waist, revealing far more than Evangeline cared to see. She stopped in front of him, reaching up to drape her arms around his shoulders. "Morning, baby," she purred, leaning in to press a sloppy kiss against his lips.

Arthur stiffened slightly at the contact, his free hand resting on the edge of the counter as though he were anchoring himself. He kissed her back, but there was a noticeable lack of enthusiasm in the way his lips barely moved against hers. "Mornin'," he muttered, his voice low and gruff.