Page 167 of Puck Me Back to Life

“You were.”

“I had at least three more jokes.” I stare at him for another second before looking away.

Mostly because if I keep looking at him, dinner is going to become significantly delayed.

That's when I notice the kitchen. Or rather...

I smell it.

My eyes drift toward the stove.

Several pots.

A cutting board.

Fresh bread cooling on a towel.

The apartment smells incredible.

I blink. “Kai.”

He follows my gaze. “Oh, yeah. I made dinner. Well, okay that’s not true. Angela made the lasagna, but I did bake the bread and pie.”

He rubs the back of his neck. “I noticed you never really have food at your place.”

I feel slightly called out. “That's fair.”

“So…” He shrugs. “I thought maybe you deserved a home-cooked meal. But I’m not really a cook besides chicken and rice so I phoned in a favor to Ange.”

For a moment, I can't speak. Kai is rambling in a cute way that tells me he’s embarrassed. I think about my refrigerator. Then I look back at the man standing in front of me. He spent his afternoon trying to take care of me.

“I used to bake before…” His voice trails off.

He doesn't finish the sentence.

He doesn't have to.

Before William.

Before everything.

“I haven't really done it in a while.” His fingers fidget together. “I just…”

He gives a small shrug. “I wanted to thank you.”

I swallow. Hard.

“You've done so much for me.”

The room suddenly feels warmer.

“You've taken care of me.”

I lower my eyes. Because if I don't, he's going to see exactly how much those words affect me.

I clear my throat.

“Ash?”