GAHRYE
After Kalle had had some time to check on him and hug him and convince her mother's heart that he was safe, Gahrye had tipped his head and told Reece to come with him. They'd raid the kitchen for a late-night snack.
Kalle had caught his eyes as they walked out and his heart throbbed. But he wasn't going to ask her to have this conversation. She was already carrying enough.
Now they both sat on stools in the large, industrial kitchen of the Big House that fed more staff than family, a loaf of crusty bread and cold meat and some lettuce sitting on the kitchen island in front of them.
Gahrye still couldn't stand the taste of mayonnaise—a horrible, plastic tasting thing. But Reece loved it, slathering it on the freshly sliced bread before piling it high with sliced ham and beef.
