He pours me a cup and hands it to me, our fingers brushing in the exchange. The touch sends a little spark through me, and from the way his eyes darken slightly, I know he feels it too.
"How did you sleep?" he asks.
"Better than I expected," I say honestly.
"Good." He flips another pancake. "I checked the alerts this morning. The fire is still contained south of town. We should be okay for now."
"That’s good news," I say.
Maddie pipes up from the table. "Daddy says you are going to stay with us until the fire goes away."
I glance at Dylan, who looks slightly embarrassed.
"If that’s okay with you," he says quickly. "I know it's an imposition, but I would feel better knowing you are not on the south side if things change."
"It's not an imposition," I say. "And yes, I'll stay. As long as you need me to."
The double meaning is not lost on either of us.
Maddie cheers, and Dylan's smile is warm and genuine.
We eat breakfast together like a family, and the normalcy of it's both comforting and terrifying. Maddie chatters about her plans for the day, Dylan makes terrible dad jokes that make her giggle, and I sit there feeling like I've stumbled into a life I did not know I wanted.
After breakfast, Dylan has to go to the bakery to prep for the festival, which is only two days away now. The phoenix cake is nearly complete, and he needs to add the final touches.
"You don't have to come with me," he says as he gathers his keys. "You can stay here and relax. The door code is on the fridge if you need to go out."
"Are you kidding?" I say. "I would not miss watching you finish that masterpiece."
He grins. "All right then. Let me get Maddie settled with my mom, and we’ll head over."
We drop Maddie at Linda's house, where she is immediately swept up into baking cookies and playing with her grandmother's collection of mismatched teacups. Linda gives me a knowing look as we leave, and I've a feeling she is going to have a lot of questions for Dylan later.
The drive to the bakery is quiet but comfortable. Dylan reaches across the console and takes my hand, threading his fingers through mine like it's the most natural thing in the world.
"Thank you," he says quietly.
"For what?"
"For last night and not making me feel broken."
I squeeze his hand. "You’re not broken, Dylan, you’re healing. There’s a difference."
He glances at me, and the gratitude in his eyes makes my chest tight.
When we arrive at the bakery, Evan is already there, prepping the morning rush. He takes one look at us walking in together and grins like the Cheshire cat.
"Well, well," he says. "Look who is glowing this morning."
"Evan," Dylan warns.
"What? I'm just saying you both look happy. It's a good look on you."
I laugh, and Dylan shakes his head, but there is no real annoyance in it.
I set up my camera while Dylan gets to work on the final details of the phoenix cake. Watching him work is mesmerizing; every stroke is deliberate, and every detail is perfect. He adds delicate sugar feathers that catch the light like real flames, and the effect is breathtaking.
"This is going to blow people away," I say softly.
