Twelve

EVE’S POV

I walked into the kitchen to the sight of Morgan, standing over an overturned recycling bin, with several shattered beer bottles at his feet. He had a broom in one hand and a dustpan in the other, still as he looked at the mess he had made.

When I appeared, he looked from the mess to me and then back again.

"l, uh..." he began, then went to rub the back of his neck, but realised that was impossible with the dustpan in his hand, so he dropped his hand and shrugged.

I was relieved that he didn't seem to have hurt himself. But I couldn't help but be amused at how he looked standing there looking at the mess he had made, as if not sure how it had happened.

He cleared his throat and looked at me.

"I was sweeping and then. I hit the bin."

Yeah, I had guessed as much. Stepping forward, I reached for his broom.

"Let me clean it up."

"No" he said, stepping back.

"Careful" he added, looking down at the shattered glass.

"Don't step on them".

I stepped back from the fallen bin.

“Ar