Hesitation flanked her stance, yet I could tell she didn’t have a modicum of fight left in her.
My fiercely strong girl was barely coasting on autopilot.
Without an ounce of hesitation, wholly prepared to ask for forgiveness rather than permission, I tucked her somber frame against my chest. The sadness I knew was bubbling a hair’s breadth beneath the surface boiled over the instant she clutched my Henley like an anchor.
I nearly broke for her at that moment.
Words of comfort lodged in my throat yet stuck on a cruel repeat in my head. However, the reality was that there was nothing I could say that would wash away the weight of the day.
Grief ebbed and flowed, often with no boundaries or expiration date.
Time stood still as her tears came in hot and heavy. The walls my girl usually reinforced around me were nowhere in sight, and I was ever so thankful I listened to my gut, as it confirmed I was right; she shouldn’t be alone.
Not tonight.
Whether it was my company she sought or not, it was time she learned I wasn’t going anywhere.
“When did you have time to make these?” she asked. “Our shifts barely ended.”
“I might have a secret cookie dough stash addiction.”
A sweet burst of air crossed over her lips and punctured the air. “Yeah, I highly doubt that.”
“Why?”
“Because you can’t have abs like yours and a sugar addiction.”
“You secretly checking me out?” I proudly smirked, earning myself a swift elbow to said abs.
“Hazards of sharing a workplace, I guess.” She said with a playful roll of her eyes, a teasing smile tugging at her lips.
I wanted to press her, tease her with the window she’d opened, but there was always a time and a place for everything, and I wasn’t about to give her cause to move from where she was nestled beside me on the couch.
“There’s only one other person who knows my secret, so if word got out?—”
“You’ll become the station’s resident Betty Crocker, too.”
“Exactly. Everyone is ravenous enough when I’m on shift.”
“Your mom did a good job with you boys; your future wives will appreciate your culinary skills.”
Her comment had me smiling. “I’d be happy to come over and put on an apron any day of the week for you and teach you my ways.”
“Don’t go getting yourself carried away now, mister; you still haven’t explained how you made these so quickly. The other night, Boden let it slip that Lakelyn is obsessed with baking shows, so we got to talking and compared different tips and tricks. Doesn’t the dough need to cure or something in the fridge for an hour beforehand?”
“Look at you picking up baking tips, but yes, it’s recommended you put the dough in the fridge after it’s mixed, as it helps cool the butter and locks in more of the flavor. Plus, the dough will rise rather than being flat like a pancake later when it bakes.”
“Interesting.”
“While I admittedly like being in the kitchen, I’m not the type to bake a batch for myself, so I roll the dough into little balls and throw them in the freezer. It’s bad, I know,” I said with a sheepish smile, “but they’re like little drops of heaven.”
“Is that how you woo all the ladies once in your home with your baking skills?”
“Woo?” I laughed. “Nah, my home is my sanctuary. It’s sacred ground.”
“Not the revolving door like the place you shared with Jaxon?”
Buying Boden’s rental property after he and Lakelyn got engaged was one of the best decisions I’d ever made, until hopefully now.
