Fort Oakley | Part One

24 | Oops, All Trauma

The scent of sizzling bacon filled the kitchen, mingling with the warm, buttery aroma of the waffles I had made in case Mason didn't want the eggs or bacon.

I flipped the bacon carefully, listening to the soft sizzle. A plate of scrambled eggs was already waiting on the counter, and the waffle maker chimed, signaling that the next batch was done.

The sound of soft footsteps made me glance up.

Jacey stood in the doorway, his black hair mussed from sleep, his chest wrapped in the bandages I'd painstakingly wrapped around his torso yesterday night. He looked a little disoriented, his sharp blue eyes were alert, scanning the kitchen like he couldn't quite figure out what was going on.

"You're up," I said, turning back to the waffles and transferring them to a plate. "Are you or Mason allergic to anything?"

Jacey blinked, his confusion deepening. "No. Why?"

"Because," I said, cracking another egg into the pan, "I didn't want to make you breakfast you couldn't eat."

For a second, he just stared at me, his brow furrowed. "You made us breakfast?"

I glanced at him over my shoulder. "Yeah, is that okay?"

He opened his mouth, then closed it again, like he was trying to find the right words. It hit me then—his parents abused him, so why would them make him breakfast? He had probably been fending for himself and Mason for years.

I softened my tone. "Can you go get Mason? He's still upstairs, right?"

Jacey hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Yeah."

"Great. Go grab him while I finish up here."

He didn't move right away. His gaze lingered on me for a moment longer, something unreadable in his expression, before he finally turned and headed upstairs.

By the time he came back, I had the island set—plates piled with scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, and golden waffles with a pitcher of orange juice in the center.

Mason trailed behind Jacey, still clutching the stuffed elephant tightly. His eyes darted around the kitchen, wide and uncertain, like he couldn't believe what he was seeing. Jacey looked just as out of place, though he did a better job of hiding it.

I gestured to the bar stools. "Sit. Eat."

Mason glanced up at Jacey, who gave him a small nod. Tentatively, Mason climbed into one of the chairs, still clutching the elephant like it was a lifeline. He didn't touch the eggs or bacon, instead reaching for the waffles. I couldn't help but grin.

"I knew you'd go for the waffles," I said, my tone teasing. "Good thing I made them, huh?"

Mason didn't respond, but he took another bite, and that was enough for me.

"Do you want something to drink, Mason?" I asked, leaning against the counter. "We've got milk, coffee, tea, juice... Or I can make you a smoothie if you want something fancy."

As I rattled off the options, Jacey walked toward me, his footsteps soft against the tile. Before I could finish my sentence, he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into a tight hug.

"Jacey—"

He didn't let me finish. His hold was firm, despite the obvious pain it must have caused him. His chest was warm against my cheek, the bandages brushing against my skin.

"Thank you," he whispered, his voice low and rough.

The words sent a jolt through me, and before I could process what was happening, he pulled back just enough to look at me. His eyes searched mine, intense and unyielding. Then, slowly, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to my forehead.