“Turn off the burner and see if you can scrape that roux off my good pan. Did you buy onions? They’re good for your immune system, you know. And they fight inflammation. When you’re old, LJ, you’ll thank me for feeding you so many onions.” She clucked her tongue at the scrape of a spatula on cast iron. “Oh, it burned on good this time, didn’t it? Well, simmer a little water in it, see if you can cut the black part loose.”

The edges of Andra’s vision started to go. Black to gray to a blur of color still left at the center. Her whole body collapsed in on itself, a balloon sucked empty of air.

“In Montana,” LJ said, “they get these fat yellow onions, sweet enough you could eat them like an apple. From over in Washington. Next time, I’ll bring you a bag.”

They sounded so calm, normal.

“How long has that lattice been loose under the porch?” LJ asked. “You know if I’m not here, Ty will nail it back down for you before the possums move in.”

“Tyrone has his own mama to do chores for. He doesn’t need to be doing mine. I was just waiting for a good day so I could swing my own hammer.”

Their conversation was utter normalcy, while her heart raced like she was fighting for her life. But then, she wasn’t, was she? She was in a kitchen, they’d been cooking, and there was nothing binding her hands. She blinked, and oxygen rushed into her lungs. Clean linoleum stretched in front of her, a couple of black smudges on the bottom of the door where shoes had brushed against the paint. Her muscles ached, and she stretched them gingerly before she pushed back to her feet.

“Sorry.” She kept her eyes on the floor, not wanting to see how Rose looked at her after that little episode. The counter was only a few steps away, and she meant to start helping so she would look normal again, but she was too shaky to risk picking up the knife. Instead, she held on to the edge of the counter. She hadn’t had a single attack since she’d followed LJ to New Orleans, not even when they’d made love in the shed: the first time she’d been with a man since her kidnapping. Everything here was so different from home, and she felt bolder, lighter here. She thought all that was over. But she was the same person.

The heat of LJ’s chest steadied her back, his arms coming around so one crossed her chest, the other winding around her waist. He ducked his head, his cheek pressed to her hair. She wasn’t sure if the quivering was coming from her body or his. Maybe both.