Page 29 of Protective Pucking Orc

I nodded once, then turned away before she could see the way my claws dug into my palms. I could live with friend, if that’s all I needed to be.

Until I knew her situation with Rosa’s father, a friend was all I could be. And that would be enough, if that’s what Sofia needed.

I was in the kitchen, scrubbing the pan from Sofia’s eggs, when I heard Rosa’s shriek—a high, panicked sound, followed by a thud as she rolled to her feet off the air mattress.

“Mama!”

I was moving before she’d finished the word, wiping my hands on my shirt as I hurried into the hall. She skidded around the corner, her pigtails bouncing, her face already crumpling.

“Mama—”

I caught her before she could barrel into the living room. “Hey. Hey, little one.”

She twisted in my grip, her dark eyes wide and terrified as she stared at her mother, now dozing on the couch. “Mama’s hurt!”

“I know.” I crouched in front of her, my hands on her shoulders. “But she’s okay. She’s just resting.”

Rosa’s lower lip trembled. “She looks scary.”

Oh, kitling. My heart ached for her pain. “She does. But she’s not scared. She’s just tired.”

Rosa’s breath hitched. “I want my mama.”

“I know.” I gently turned her toward the kitchen. “How about you help me make something to eat? We’ll all feel better if we have good food.”

Rosa sniffled, wiping her nose on her sleeve. “What are we making?”

“Pancakes.” I stood, holding out my hand. “With chocolate chips.”

Her eyes lit up, just slightly. “Really?”

“Really.” I led her into the kitchen, lifting her onto the stool by the sink. “Right after you wash your hands. You can help me measure and stir. And not eat all the chocolate chips before they go into the batter.”

She giggled, just a little. It was enough.

The first batch burned.

Rosa had dumped in too much baking powder when she was mixing, and the pancakes puffed up like little volcanoes before collapsing into blackened ruins.

She wailed. “I ruined them!”

“No.” I flipped the ruined pancakes onto a plate, then handed her the spatula. “We’ll try again. This time, you pour the chocolate chips in. But only a handful, okay?”

She nodded solemnly, her small fingers careful as she sprinkled the chips into the batter. I’d heard Sofia wake in the den, heard the groan she’d tried to hide as she shifted on the couch, and hoped she might be up for more breakfast.

The second batch turned out golden, fluffy, perfect.

Rosa beamed. “I did it!”

“You did.” I slid a pancake onto a plate, then handed it to her. “Take this to your mama. Tell her you made it all by yourself.”

She grabbed the plate with both hands, her chest puffing up with pride. “Okay!”

I watched her go, her pigtails bouncing with each step.

Then I turned back to the stove, pressing my palms to the counter, breathing.

Mine.