Jackson placed the last of the pans onto the counter, with his brows knitting together. "That's all of them,"
"Are you sure?" her heels slid across the kitchen floor, after kicking them from her aching feet.
"Positive," he answered.
The light pelted down on the two of them. Jackson always wondered why she kept it so bright. It had been years since he'd seen her, and to be honest, Ashley looked no different. Her hair was about the same length, peeking just over her elbows. Perhaps new highlights appeared, here and there. Although, she wore her makeup like she'd always worn her makeup. Very little of it, with just enough you'd know.
“This one,” she gripped a silver frying pan.
Jackson took it out of her hand. “Are you still with him?” he nodded towards the couch in the darkened living room.
Ashley spotted the grey tee messily tossed over the chair’s arm. “That’s not his,” she plainly stated.
“Oh,”
Jackson took two eggs in his fist, cracking them on the side of the pan. “I heard about all the drama,” he continued. “I just wanted to see how you were holding up,”
The smell of breakfast chorused through the air.
“You should stay with me for a while,” she suggested. “I could use a friend,”
The popping of the pan sounded for a few moments, as Jackson slowly turned to stare at her back. Ashley felt his eyes, but didn’t shift to look. She continued to place bread in the toaster.
“Okay,” he nodded, turning back to the half-cooked eggs, with a quick glare to the shirt.
“Okay,” she murmured.