UNBROKEN PROMISE

~52~ pants in a twist

The morning sun had barely risen when Jacob rolled over in bed, reaching out instinctively for Megan. His hand landed on her side of the mattress, but it was empty and cool to the touch. He opened his eyes with a groggy sigh, rubbing the sleep from them as he glanced around the room. Megan's nightgown was draped over the back of a chair, and he could hear faint sounds coming from the bathroom.

Jacob sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and ruffling his hair as he stretched. He wasn't a man who took mornings slow, but the tension from the day before still lingered in his chest. He had expected to wake up to Megan's warm presence beside him, but she'd already started her day without so much as a word.

"Mornin', darlin'," he called softly as he stood and moved to the bathroom door. Megan was washing her face, her movements quick and agitated. She didn't turn to look at him, just kept scrubbing.

Jacob leaned against the doorframe, studying her with a small frown. "You alright?" he asked, his voice low and careful.

Megan straightened, dabbing at her face with a towel, and then turned to face him, her expression cool. "Fine," she said curtly before brushing past him and heading back into the bedroom.

Jacob sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. "What's got your pants in a twist this mornin'?" he asked, following her.

Megan snatched up her dress, pulling it over her head with an exaggerated huff. "You," she snapped, her voice sharp. "You and your godforsaken snorin'. Kept me up all night."

Jacob blinked, clearly taken aback. "My snorin'? That's what's got you actin' like fish outta water?"

Megan spun to face him, her eyes blazing. "And let's not forget the fact that I've got a sore bottom, thanks to you!" she shouted, jabbing a finger in his direction.

Jacob's brows lifted as he fought back a smirk, which only seemed to rile Megan up further. "You earned that sore bottom, Meg," he said, his tone even but firm. "And ya know it."

Megan crossed her arms, glaring at him. "Well, that doesn't make it any easier to sit, now does it?"

Jacob sighed, shaking his head as he approached her. "Megan," he began, his tone softening, "is this really about your bottom, or is somethin' else botherin' you?"

"Maybe it's your snorin'. Or maybe it's the fact that I barely got any sleep and you're already actin' like nothin' happened!" she shot back, brushing past him and heading toward the kitchen.

Jacob groaned quietly, muttering to himself as he grabbed his boots and shirt. "Lord, give me patience," he said under his breath before following her downstairs.

By the time Jacob entered the kitchen with a pail of fresh milk, Megan and Mama Becca were already hard at work. Megan was kneading dough at the counter, while Mama Becca stood at the sink peeling potatoes. The tension in the room was palpable, and Jacob could feel it prickling against his skin.

He set the pail down with a thud and glanced at Megan, who didn't so much as spare him a glance. "Alright," he said, folding his arms across his chest, "what's got you so riled up this mornin'?"

Megan slammed the dough onto the counter with a loud thwack before turning to glare at him. "I already told you," she snapped. "It's your snorin'. And the fact that my backside feels like it's been set on fire."

Jacob tilted his head, studying her with a mix of amusement and exasperation. "Snorin' and a sore bottom, huh? That's all it takes to ruin your mornin'?"

Megan's eyes narrowed, her hands balling into fists. "You wouldn't understand, Jacob," she said, her voice trembling with frustration. "You don't have to deal with any of this."