“For God’s sake, Quinn. Just be yourself.”
That reflexive anger he inspired in her flared. “Being assertive and setting boundaries doesn’t make me bitchy.” Because he had asked for it, she added, “Douchebag.”
TWENTY-EIGHT
Josie was hit in the face with the smell of pancakes—or maybe French toast—when she stepped into her foyer. It was late morning. Gretchen had come back to relieve her. Noah was already home but once he showered and changed, he’d be returning to work. Was he making breakfast? There were no notes of scorched batter in the scents wafting toward her. As she drew closer to the kitchen, a little boy’s voice rang out. “Mom, they’re almost done! You have to see!”
As she always did when she heard eight-year-old Harris Quinn’s voice, Josie grinned. Before Noah, Josie had been married to her high school sweetheart, Ray Quinn. When they separated, Ray had started dating Misty Derossi. After Ray was killed, Misty gave birth to their son. Josie was ashamed to admit that her behavior toward Misty initially was downright nasty, but once little Harris came along, she realized she would do absolutely anything to protect him and be in his life. That included developing a more civil relationship with his mother.
The more Josie got to know Misty, the faster they went from being civil to being close friends. Misty was smart, resilient, kind, and one of the most genuinely caring people Josie had ever known. Plus, she was a culinary genius. Now, Misty wasa precious part of Josie and Noah’s found family. It wasn’t unusual to come home from a shift and find Misty and Harris there. They’d been coming over a lot more since Wren arrived. Although Wren was fourteen and fairly independent, she hadn’t been part of their household long. Josie and Noah weren’t yet comfortable leaving her entirely on her own. During times when Josie and Noah’s shifts overlapped, or both of them were at work, if Josie’s parents couldn’t be there Misty and Harris came over to hang out. Misty said she was paying them back for all the babysitting Josie and Noah had done for her over the years.
Few things had gone smoothly since Josie and Noah assumed guardianship of Wren, but the bond Wren and Harris had formed was definitely one of them. This wasn’t the first time Wren had cooked for him.
“Mom!” Harris crowed. “Wren can make dinosaur-shaped pancakes! Look, look!”
Josie felt the overwrought kind of defeat that could only come after hours of intense stress, lack of sleep and persistent, lifelong culinary failure. It draped itself over her body like a weighted blanket, making her limbs feel heavy. Dinosaur-shaped pancakes? Those were a thing? A thing her fourteen-year-old charge could make, no less? She could barely make regular pancakes, even with Misty tutoring her. Years before she and Noah had decided they wanted children, they’d taken Harris to the Pancake Palace and thought they owed it to him to learn to make them at home. To make things fun, Josie and Noah held a pancake-making contest. Nobody won that day. Even now, out of an entire bowl of batter, Josie usually managed two or three that were palatable, but they weren’t round. Why was it so damn hard to make round pancakes? That was their natural shape, wasn’t it?
Apparently not when she made them.
“That’s so cool,” Misty said.
The pancakes certainly explained why Trout hadn’t charged into the foyer to greet Josie when she stepped through the door. Food was his main priority in life, even if the humans didn’t often share with him. A scrap might fall onto the floor, or a weak-willed or ill-informed guest might offer him something. His optimism was admirable even if his loyalty to his humans fell a distant second to anything edible.
He did rush over to her when she appeared in the kitchen doorway, wagging his butt and making little mewling sounds. Josie knelt to give him some proper pets, crooning soft praise as she surveyed the scene. Misty sat at the kitchen table, laptop open before her. After Harris was born, she’d taken a job at the new women’s center, working her way up to Intake Coordinator. It wasn’t unusual for her to work from home. Wren stood at the stove, flipping a pancake with a spatula. Harris was next to her, lifting onto his toes to peer into the pan. Softly, Wren said, “Not too close. I don’t want you to get burned.”
“Can I make dinosaur ones someday?” he asked excitedly.
“You’ll have to ask your mom,” Wren said.
Harris turned in Misty’s direction and spotted Josie. “Aunt JoJo!” he yelled, sprinting toward her.
Trout scrambled out of the way. Josie stood and opened her arms just in time for him to barrel into her. She would never get tired of his enthusiastic greetings. She hugged him tightly and leaned down to kiss the top of his head, inhaling his little boy scent. Freshly cut grass, grape juice, and dirt. “Hey, you.”
He disentangled from her and told her all about the dinosaurs. Josie looked over at Wren and the girl smiled at her. It wasn’t forced or strained. Just a natural reaction to seeing her. Josie’s heart skipped. She got closer to the stove and tried not to look too bummed out about the pancake in the precise shape of a T-Rex. “That’s awesome!”
Misty, perhaps sensing Josie’s rising feelings of inadequacy, said, “She’s using a mold.”
“Yeah.” From the counter, Wren plucked a plastic green thing that looked like a giant cookie cutter. “See? Super easy.”
It didn’t look super easy, but Josie kept that to herself.
“Erica and I found them at the store the other day while we were out,” Wren explained.
Erica Slater was a college student that Josie and Noah had met last year after he was abducted. In fact, it was Erica who had found him and saved his life. As it turned out, she was the biological child of Lila Jensen. Her childhood had been only marginally better than Josie’s. She and Josie had bonded over their mutual suffering and Erica had become a part of her and Noah’s found family. When Wren came along, the two had become fast friends.
“Maybe you can show Josie how to use the molds later,” Misty suggested.
Wren slid the spatula under the T-Rex and deposited it onto a nearby plate. “That might be entertaining.”
Misty laughed. “Oh, it will be.”
Josie looked back and forth between them before noticing the smile fighting to break loose on Wren’s face. “You don’t think I can make a T-Rex pancake?”
“Oh, I’m sure you can make it,” Wren said. “But whether it will look like a T-Rex or not is another story.”
Wren was teasing her. She was getting comfortable enough to tease Josie. Some of the stress from her double shift drained away, followed by a warmth that reached all the way down into her soul.
“I could do it,” Josie insisted.
