Frost & Flames | Soulmate AU 2 |

Six

I sleep like the dead well into the afternoon. I'm hesitantly tapped awake by someone. For a second I don't know what's going on, first wondering why I'm not in Rowan and I's bed back in the tower and second confused as to why I'm not curled up on an uncomfortable cot in The Vault. Then I realize it's Jacob, one of Max's buddies, his most trustworthy buddy, and relax a bit.

"It's two in the afternoon," he says. "I made some soup and you're gonna eat it, sound good?"

"Soup?" I croak, sitting up and groaning at the pain that tugs at me from my ass. The ache in my broken arm registers next, but I power through, turning so I can swing my legs over the side of the couch. My bare feet are cold on the hardwood flooring of the living room.

"Yeah, kid, soup," he replies. "Chicken noodle. Campbell's."

"Why soup?"

"Why not soup?" he clucks, turning and heading into the kitchen. I take that as my cue to follow, dragging my tired body to my feet and stumbling after him.

There is, in fact, a steaming bowl of chicken noodle soup sitting at the man's kitchen table. There's another bowl placed across the table from it, so at least the guy's not going to just sit there awkwardly and watch me eat. I ease myself as gingerly as possible into the chair, accepting the glass of soda he hands me as he comes over to sit down himself.

I scarf down the soup like it's a competition. Jacob eats his own at a normal human pace and watches, amused, as I place the empty bowl in his sink just as he's about halfway done with his own. It's a good thing I was actually hungry because I'm still incredibly tired.

"My boyfriend's going to be coming over later on," Jacob says as I return to the table.

"What?" I ask, a shock of terror jolting through my body at what that could mean. The rational part of my brain takes over quickly, reminding me that Max promised this guy is safe and that Max wouldn't lie to me about something like that. "You didn't—Max didn't—" I stammer.

"Hey," the man says, setting his spoon down in his bowl. "Calm down, kid. He's just coming over to eat some dinner and chill, okay?"

"Oh."

"Yeah. He lost a game yesterday and he's super bummed about it, so I invited him over. Forgot all about you being here," he explains, scratching the back of his neck. "I can tell him never mind since it's...freaking you out."

"No, no, it's okay," I reply, still standing there in front of the kitchen table like an idiot. "He can come."

"Cool," he says, picking his spoon back up. "He's a chill guy, so don't worry."

I sit back down, grabbing the glass of water and taking careful sips of soda.

"Wait. You said he lost a game?" I say. "What game?"

"Oh. Tommy plays hockey," he explains, chuckling softly and spooning some more soup into his mouth. "He takes it real serious."

I nod. Every hockey player takes hockey games seriously, it seems. I played a little bit in high school before I started running track. It was only because my dad bullied me into it since he played when he was my age, but I still enjoyed it a lot. Hockey's expensive, though, and I wanted to run track and write books on top of regular school, so I ended up having to make a choice. I took it seriously enough to be upset about losing a game just like this Tommy guy.

"Alright, well," I say, downing the rest of water and placing that in the sink, as well. "I'm gonna go nap."

"Christ," Jacob remarks as I'm making my way back to the living room. "You're doing a lot of sleeping."