“Thank you.”
Cooper looked at me for another two heartbeats. I couldn’t have sworn to it, but I thought his eyes lingered on the hollow of my throat, just visible between the gap in my shirt where it was open at the top.
Thank you, Avery.
“Uh. Sorry,” he finally spoke up again, stepping back from the door. “Come in, welcome, thank you for coming. Are those for…?”
“Your mother,” I said.
Cooper lit up, eyes sparkling in the warm lighting of the front hall. “Good choice. She’s absolutely the one you have to win over.”
“Felix!” Benji squealed, tearing into the hall and skidding to a stop in front of me, looking up with the same big brown eyes as his uncle. I’d only seen him in class, where he was on his best behavior. Right now, he had a streak of blue paint on his cheek and a speck of pink in one of his curls, he was wearing a plaid shirt that must have belonged to Cooper, trailing behind him like a robe, and a grin so big he’d run out of face to spread it over. “You’re here!”
He must have been able to get away with anything, if he was always this cute.
“What makes you say that?” I teased, smiling back at him. I didn’t know what exactly I’d done to earn his affection, but I wanted to keep doing it. He was a good kid, well-behaved and dedicated in class, but aside from that, Ilikedhim. He was easy to like.
He liked me, too. I might’ve wondered about that with an adult, but kids never hid their feelings—at least, not well. Benji liked me.
Not many peoplelikedme. Most people I knew, I’d realized over the last few months, were happy to see me with a career as shattered as my thigh bone, and all the pain that involved.
Benji rolled his eyes at me and grabbed my hand. “Come meet Grandma, she says you have pretty eyes.”
I glanced at Cooper, who was definitely blushing this time, the tips of his ears practically glowing crimson.
I shrugged at him and let Benji lead me away.
Mrs. Richards must have been in her mid or late 50s, but aside from the crow’s feet around her eyes and the grey streaks at her temples, I never would have known. She greeted me as though she’d known me for years, accepted the flowers with grace, and introduced me to her husband.
Mr. Richards was grey haired and bearded, as big and broad as Cooper was despite his age—which explained the Big in Big Dick’s—and had the family warm eyes, also surrounded with crow’s feet that made him look almost unbearably kind. He was weathered, and the hand he offered me to shake seemed to have motor oil permanently soaked into the lines of it, because despite appearances, my hand came away clean. Not that I would’ve minded a little motor oil. Not for a reception like this.
Once introductions had been made, Mrs. Richards directed me into the kitchen while she excused herself and her husband to clean Benji up before dinner, which she insisted was a two-person job while giving her husband a meaningful look.
I knew a setup when I saw one, but I didn’t plan on fighting it.
I wanted to see Cooper.
That had been true since he’d left earlier today. I hadn’t stopped thinking about him. His smile, his hands, the complete lack of judgment. He hadn’t told me this wouldn’t be happening if Istretched or warmed up or took up hot yoga or supplements or keto or any of the other things people who’d seen me in pain had.
He’d just helped. Then he’d asked me to come to dinner.
When I stepped into the kitchen, he was standing over the stove, stirring a pan of what had to be his famous spaghetti sauce and humming to himself.
I stood in the doorway watching him for a moment. The rolled-up sleeves showed off strong forearms, and the worn shirt made him look so touchable my fingertips itched. The whole domestic scene wasdoingthings to me, a warm wave of something I couldn’t quite name rising in my chest.
What I was learning here was that I thought dads were hot. Cooper might not technically have been Benji’s dad, but hewas, as far as I could see, in all the ways that really mattered.
Benji was a lucky kid, despite everything.
“Am I early?” I asked as he poured water into a big pot at the sink, approaching the kitchen counter. There was an overhang with stools tucked under it on my side, so I pulled one out and perched on it.
Cooper’s sheepish smile was my new favorite expression on him. “I’m running late,” he said. “Sorry. Benji needed help with a school project and it took longer than I expected, but I didn’t want to?—”
“Hey, no explanation necessary,” I said, raising an open hand to stop him. “He comes first.”
Cooper turned to look at me. I couldn’t quite readthisexpression, but I could see the surprise in it.
“Exactly,” he said, putting the pot on the stove and turning the heat up to full. “You’re not allergic to seafood, are you?”
