That is when the burner phone buzzes from the bedroom.
The sound cuts through the kitchen so cleanly the pancake nearly burns.
Derby hears it.
August does too, but to him it’s just a phone. He returns to arranging dinosaur court because breakfast law waits for no woman.
Derby’s eyes find mine. No command. No immediate no.
Just that look.
Steady.
Dark.
Waiting.
That one look shows me how far we have come and how hard it’s costing him not to move first.
“I should check it.”
His jaw flexes. “Yeah.”
“You want to tell me not to.”
“Bad.”
“But you’re not.”
“Trying this thing where I don’t become the villain before breakfast.”
My mouth trembles into a smile. “How’s it feel?”
“Like swallowing a wrench.”
I cross the kitchen and touch his chest as I pass.
One light touch.
His hand catches mine.
Not stopping.
Holding for one second, warm and rough.
Then he lets go.
I go to the bedroom and pull the burner from the drawer.
The message is from the same unknown number.
Need a favor, sis.
Sighing I put the phone in my back pocket.
Back in the kitchen, Derby starts.
“That patch, my patch, my property patch, if it ever happens,” he says, voice low, “it won’t make you mine because you can’t leave. It’ll make every man with eyes understand you choose to come back to me.”