A fruit bar was thrust under her nose. “Last one,” he said and gave her a grin he probably didn’t even know was so adorable. “I’ll add them to your list.”
She devoured the snack before he could say anything else—she didn’t think her heart could take any more of his demands or his helpfulness.
The drive into Hiberhaven was silent. Kol rested his head on his fist as he gazed out the window, and she white-knuckled the wheel, frustration mounting, but from his aloofness or her own awareness, she didn’t know.You kissed me, she screamed into her brain.Please at least make fun of me for it!
But Kol just kept smiling out the window like all was right with the world.
They were approaching the grocery store in the village’s center, and she took a breath, focusing on the task at hand. “Do you mind if we go to the shop on the other side of town?”
Kol raised thin, black brows. “Why would I?”
“Well, Dad hates the extra ten minutes in the car, and Presley always complains that the deli there isn’t as good even though it’s actually better because Angie works there, and she’s the best sandwich maker this side of the Green Mountains. Parking’s better there too, and they have way more options for everything.” Piper snorted, eyes narrowing on the road. “And it’s funny because both of them complain when I use anything except San Marzano tomatoes, but you can’t get San Marzanos at the store they insist is just fine. Plus, the other one has a sushi counter and they carry Doc’s favorite treats and they’re the only place in town that has the brand of tampons that I like, not that either of them would ever go get those for me, and…uh, well, they just have better stuff.” Piper drummed her fingers on the wheel, eyes fixed ahead, wishing she’d shut up three complaints earlier. God, she sounded so picky, so annoying, so high maintenance.
“Whatever you want, Pipsqueak.”
She didn’t have to look at him to know he was grinning at her, she could hear it in his voice and feel the warmth of it over the heater in her car.Whatever I want, she thought, sitting back into the seat, and so she drove past the first shop and headed for the second.
It was easier to relax behind the cart with her planner opened to the list she’d made—this was her territory, she had her tools, and the terrain was mapped out in her mind. Kol shadowed her, close enough to feel, though she was sure she could sense him from three aisles over, so when he did finally fall behind, she stopped.
Halfway back along the aisle, Kol was holding a box of cereal, lips drawn into a frown as he studied it. He looked at a lot of things intensely, Piper notwithstanding, but this was more like when he had seen The Tree propped up in her living room for the first time, solemn and resigned.
With careful steps, she backtracked the length of the aisle and stood beside him. “That’s cereal,” she said, dragging out the words. “It’s sort of a human tradition to start the day with as much sugar as possible.”
Kol snorted. “Yeah, I remember. Just haven’t seen this kind in about two decades. We don’t have it in Bexley.” The corner of his mouth quirked up, and not with a knowing smirk that called her nipples to attention, but something that touched her deeper.
“Do you remember liking it?”
“Well, I sort of had to—my dad didn’t do a lot of cooking, but he always had Choco-Crunchy Bits when I went to stay with him. Good for breakfast or dinner. Well, maybe notgood.” He laughed a little, and the sound wrapped around Piper’s insides, coaxing out her own smile at his memory. “I think the last time I had it was when I was eight and made a bowl for my brother for the first time. I thought three-year-olds could handle spoons, but he ended up spilling it all over himself. His mom was pissed.”
Piper tipped her head up to him. “You have a brother?”
“Three of them—half-siblings. Well, they’re whole actually, whole human, but they belong to my father and his wife. I’ve never actually met the youngest one, and I donotknow why I’m telling you this.” He blinked and scratched at his beanie then moved to put the box back on the shelf.
Piper picked the Choco-Crunchy Bits right back up and dropped them into the cart.
“You don’t want that.” Kol followed behind again as she pushed the cart down the aisle.
“Yes, I do.”
“It’s not on your list—it’ll screw your whole plan up.”
Piper waved a hand behind her, trying her best to be flippant despite that it felt unnatural. “What else haven’t you had since you were eight?”
He let out a long breath. “Soup from a can, bubblegum, a hug, ravioli—”
Piper spun. “Ahug?”
“I’m kidding, Pipsqueak.” He dropped a hand onto the top of her head and turned her back around. “Get back toyourlist.”
“My list just expanded,” she said and took them down the canned soup aisle.
Piper knew how to be convincing when she needed to be, but it didn’t take that much, not after she insisted they hunt down every prepackaged and preservative-pumped meal he could remember from childhood. Kol was a little more reluctant to tell her about the weekends he spent with his father and how they stopped not too long after that fateful morning of spilled cereal, but they the truth was eventually coaxed out when she asked sweetly enough. As his brothers got older and asked about Kol’s ears, his stepmother insisted hiding his identity was too dangerous for them. He had his own mother, though, and a whole life with her and her tribe. The long holidays and weekends with his father devolved into sporadic visits, a few hours here and there, separate from the normal, human family he was raising elsewhere.
Piper was careful to not ask too many questions, Kol only willing to give up information seemingly by accident. She would pick up a cup of pudding and ask, “When was the last time you had this?”
“I was eleven,” he would respond with a wistful smile. “Got in a lot of trouble for getting it all over my shirt, but my dad bought me a new one with these anthropomorphic turtle warriors on it. I still have that, I think, not that it fits.”
The details weren’t quite enough to help her fill in the Kol page of her favorite-things cheat sheet in her planner, but by the time they reached the checkout counter, Piper was grinning like an idiot, the cart full of things he’d sheepishly asked her not to get and a little, bittersweet story attached to each one. “You’re gonna have a tummy ache after all this.”
