Read Online How It Feels to Fly by Kathryn Holmes - Free Book Online Page B

guys.”
    â€œDr. Lancaster’s really putting you to work, huh?”
    â€œI don’t mind. Believe it or not, I’m a morning person.”
    I pretend to grimace. “Ugh.”
    He laughs. “I know, right? But I like being up when the rest of the world is still sleeping. It’s, I don’t know, magical or something.”
    â€œMagical,” I repeat, shaking my head. “To me, the only good thing about getting up early is having the bathroom to myself.”
    â€œThat is another perk,” he says. “Though I bet my morning routine is a lot more stripped-down than yours.” He sets the oven to preheat, then starts washing grapes in the sink,dropping them one by one into a colander. “That’s the great thing about being a guy.”
    I laugh.
    â€œUm, so about yesterday . . .” He keeps methodically separating grapes from their stems, but I can see his shoulders tense up. “I’m glad you told Dr. Lancaster what happened. And thanks for telling her I wanted to run and get her immediately.”
    â€œI promised I would,” I say quietly.
    â€œI know. But thanks anyway for following through. I want to be here. I’d hate to screw it up.” He tosses the stems in the garbage, swirls the grapes around in the colander one last time, and turns the faucet off. “And I’m sorry, again, for that whole thing. For not being more careful with you.” Now he turns to face me, putting the dripping colander on a paper towel on the counter.
    â€œIt’s fine. I was . . .” I gulp. “I was a little bit of a basket case yesterday.”
    â€œYou seemed okay to me. Until . . .”
    â€œYeah, well.” That’s what I do. I seem okay, until .
    â€œWas it anything I did? Was it what I said on Sunday?”
    I shake my head, even though that’s not entirely true. “It’s this whole thing. This place. I’m—I’m kind of a mess.”
    Now it’s Andrew’s turn to shake his head. “Nope. I don’t accept that.”
    â€œYou don’t accept that I’m a mess?”
    â€œI do not. In fact, I think you’re pretty great.”
    His words—and the sincere smile on his face—almostknock me over. I have to grip the sides of the stool to stay upright. “Oh,” I say, my voice coming out weaker than I want it to. “Thanks, I guess.”
    â€œYou’re welcome. And just so you know—” Andrew shuts his mouth abruptly as Dominic walks in. He’s in plaid pajama bottoms and a white T-shirt, and his dark hair is sticking out in all directions.
    â€œHey,” he says, yawning. “I’m starving. What’s for breakfast?”
    Andrew snaps into action. “Cinnamon rolls—about to go in the oven. And there’s fruit salad. Want to help? It’ll be ready faster if you do.”
    â€œI guess,” Dominic says. “What do you need?”
    Andrew sets him up slicing strawberries. Then he looks over to me. “Can you help me out by peeling some clementines?”
    I nod, and he pushes the bowl my way.
    â€œThanks,” he says.
    â€œNo problem.”
    â€œOh, and I should’ve asked earlier. Do you drink coffee? I made a pot.” He points at the coffeemaker.
    â€œSometimes.” The problem is, I like it light and sweet—and that’s how the calories get in.
    Andrew pulls a mug out of the cabinet. “I’ll get you some. How do you take it?”
    â€œBlack.”
    When he hands me the steaming mug, our fingers brush. The brief touch gives me goose bumps up and downmy arms. I take a sip of the black coffee, trying not to cringe at the bitter liquid as it hits my taste buds. Then I get to work on the clementines.
    Andrew puts the pastries in the oven. Within minutes, the smell of cinnamon sugar is overwhelming. Intoxicating.
    I lift a peeled clementine to my nose. I breathe in the bright citrus scent. I tell