Sutt

of Chase Innovations, the fluorescent lights buzzing lik

bsurd. The guy ran a tech empire, had biceps that could crack

ury Airbnb-marble counters, a fridge the size of my studio a

is sleeves. A jagged scar sliced across his left forear

ce. "Maybe you want people to see you're go

g a bowl down, "Claire

doorframe. "He hasn't baked since his mom's funer

. His knuckles whitened-old sc

h.

anas with too much force. "So

cracked an egg one-handed, y

. It smelled like overripe fruit and Ethan's

" I asked, swiping

tract, the bottle trembling sl

our mer

outh twitched. "Som

ral. Mom. Play nice.* I stabbed the b

bowl away. "You'r

umbled, not

is scarred forearm br

ing flour, folding batter, avoiding eye contac

u get that?

. "Soccer injury. S

oo

s no

He shoved the pan

a calendar alert.

cing through the tension. "I'll handle it." She didn'

r click

rred forearm flexed as he gripped the counter. The recipe

So... board meeti

voice rasped, eyes lo

le chilled my p

e didn't t

't w

r you're

read*-the card's edges frayed, a

fell over me.

was s

ist pulsed. "Someone who... believed i

the drawer. Our hands brushed-flour and callu

e sawed off a slice, crumbs avalanchin

el

hocolate and guilt burn

flour from my che

Claire was eviscerating the board. Here, the world n

ave like

hy

know when

shut. The story

r