"We could have dinner out or order in, you know," I said. "We're not exactly impoverished." I know. I just wanted to be prepared." Obsessive," I said....Potayto, potahto." Let's call the whole thing off," I sang.Jeff just laughed.I helped him with the cutting. There were items higher on my priority list than waiting for him to finish by himself.I made the broth and cut up the chicken. He cut the Andouille sausage and prepared to make the roux.Suddenly he turned, took me in his arms and kissed me.. He was outside. The sun was up. What the fuck.He sat up, and regretted it. Pain danced up on his back and arms, a burning sensation he hadn’t felt in a long time, since the last time he’d been to a gym. He’d had a good workout yesterday then. The fuck did he do—Blood. He could smell blood. How did he know what blood smelled like? He fucking knew, knew it down to his bones, knew it like it was a part of himself to know, knew it like he knew the smell of eggs and rice he’d been eating for the. More

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