“It wasn’t bad,” I replied, letting him take the grocery bags from my hands and put away the items. “Sleep well?”
“Yeah, better than I have in a long time. I should have asked, but is it okay for me to read your books?”
“Oh, sure, read whatever you want. You don’t want to watch TV?” I pointed to the flat screen on the dresser.
Thorn shrugged. “I can take it or leave it.”
“Okay.” I took a quick shower, and when I returned, Thorn had begun making pancakes on the portable gas stove I’d had for years, gathering dust. I smiled. “Breakfast for dinner, huh?”
His cheeks pinkened. “It’s one of the few things I know how to make. At least it’s filling.”
“And I appreciate it.”
Soon, we had high stacks of pancakes, syrup, and butter on our plates, and we sat across from each other on our beds, stuffing our faces. I listened to the sound of the ocean nearby, and the voices of guests around us in the motel. It was all soothing, in its own way.