OBSESSED

59

JARROD

As I flipped the omelet over and inhaled the aromas of cheese and bacon, Leah cleared her throat.

I set the spatula down to face her.

She was staring at her fingers which were interlocked together. She was seated at the breakfast bar watching me make breakfast.

"How's Julia doing?" she mumbled.

I smiled. "She's better. She's staying with my parents while she recovers."

"That's good." She wet her lips. "I'm sure she's glad to be out of the hospital."

"She is certainly living in the lap of luxury with my parents. They'll make sure she's supervised with a home nurse."

"When was the last time you talked to them?"

My smile faltered. I turned back to the omelet, pushing it idly around the skillet. "It's been . . . awhile. I've been a little preoccupied."

"Because of me?" she asked.

Shoveling the omelet onto a plate, I grabbed a fork and placed the set in front of Leah's hands.

She finally looked up at my face. Still, her eyes looked just below mine, not quite meeting my gaze.

"More or less," I said with a shrug. "Work has been hectic too."

"How'd you manage to get time off for this then?"

I sighed. "Don't worry yourself with those details, Leah. I've handled things."

She hesitantly picked up the fork and poked at the omelet. "Thank you. For breakfast."

"You're more than welcome."

As I turned back to the stove, she continued, "Would it be too much to ask for my phone?"

Ah hah. I smiled wryly.

Plating the fried eggs and sausage I'd made for myself in another skillet, I turned back around and set the plate beside hers.

She gazed up at me with pleading eyes. My heart swelled at the sincerity gleaming in them.

"And what reason could you possibly have for using your phone?" I asked.

She bit her lip. "So I can check on Foxy."

"Foxy will be fine," I said. "Isabelle is checking on her."

I realized I hadn't checked Leah's phone yet. I didn't know for certain that Isabelle actually went to her house—I just knew that me, under the guise as Leah, had asked her to.

If Isabelle was a halfway decent friend—despite my own doubts about her—then she would make sure Foxy was cared for.

I didn't give a fuck about the cat, but I knew Leah would be more than just upset if something happened to her.

"Besides," I went on, sitting on the stool beside her, "this is a getaway. No technology."

Her face turned downward with a frown.

She cut a bite off the omelet with the side of her fork and jabbed it into her mouth.

"How is it?" I asked.

She swallowed it down, refusing to look at me again. "It's good," she muttered.

We ate in relative silence. I was pleased Leah finished her entire omelet. Once we both finished, I gathered our dishes and placed them in the sink.

When I turned back, she was mid-yawn.

She looked utterly adorable with her frizzy bed hair and rumpled clothes.