Trystan

Ridge put me on egg duty, which was fucking stupid. Like I know anything about flipping eggs-over-easy. Two eggs in, I’ve already said fuck it, and I’m scrambling the whole lot of it.

Whipping it into a frenzy with the spatula doesn’t frustrate me as much as trying to flip the slimy shit. And after weeks in this cabin sharing breakfast with Sable, I know damn good and well she likes eggs in any form. In fact, I know she loves food of all kinds, and I know that’s because her uncle fucking starved her.

Fucking asshole. I jam the spatula under the sizzling, bubbling eggs, sending several small...