Just like that, the other half of the day is left for me and my jumbled mind.

I make my way around the front of the group home, glancing from the girls’ to the boys’ home just across from it, and out at the street ahead.

Fuck it.

I drop onto the grass where I stand and pull my phone out, flipping it around in my hand.

I take a deep breath, glaring at the screen.

I decide to try Maria again, but again there is no answer and her mailbox is full. It’s annoying, and to be honest I don’t even know why I keep trying, if she doesn’t want to talk, that’s fine. I shouldn’t care.

I don’t care.

But why the fuck can’t she answer?

What if it was about Zoey?

Where’s Captain?

And why the fuck is Mike still here and how the hell did he buy a new car?

I scoff at myself.

He’s here because he hasn’t had a chance to say bye to me yet.

Maybe I should go find him?

Maybe I’m just bored out of my mind.

“What are you doin’, girl?”

My shoulders fall, a sigh leaving me as I glance over my shoulder, shielding my eyes to see beyond the sun. Maybell comes down the steps, a town car pulling in in perfect timing with her feet hitting the walkway.

“Getting some sun.” Getting away from the Bray house.

She eyes me, her lips pursed. “Mmhm. Come on now, get on in.”

I frown. “Why?”

Her dark brows lift. “’Cause I said, child. Get in. You can use a distraction. Getting some sun,” she mocks with a scoff, “Girl, please.”

A chuckle leaves me, and I’m tempted to ask how she would know, but that’s a fool’s question. She knows everything, so I push to my feet. “All right.”

The car doesn’t stop at the main grocery store she would normally go to, I know because I used to help her carry them inside. The driver continues down the road a little farther, and around the corner where another smaller store sits amidst a neighborhood.

We get inside and start checking off items on Maybell’s long-ass list—it takes a lot to feed ten to twelve teenage girls.

“I heard you made your cinnamon rolls,” she says, pointing to a large bag of rice.

I bend down to grab it, dropping it into the cart, before bringing my eyes to hers. “Gee, wonder how Rolland was aware I knew how.”

Her smile is small as she continues to push the cart farther down the aisle. “I wonder...”

When I shake my head, she chuckles and nods toward a case of flour.

“You know, that’s my recipe.”

My eyes slide to hers, and slowly I set the item into the cart.

“Made those for Raven’s mother when she was young, for Rolland and the boys’ biological fathers, for the boys as they grew...”

For everyone but Zoey.

I frown, my hand shooting out and gripping the metal cart and her eyes come to mine.

They’re gentle and knowing, and it pisses me off more.

“Why tell Rolland knowing he’d ask me to. That wasn’t my memory to take,” I voice. “Hasn’t she lost enough family firsts or traditions?”

Maybell’s smile is kind, maybe a little saddened. “You’ve been making those for her for some time, Tor.”

My heart shakes.

And there it is.

She did know.

“Why would you teach me how to make them?” I didn’t mean to whisper, but that’s how my words come out.

I don’t even know why I asked.

The answer is obvious.

Because she knew. She knew where I was disappearing to each day and what Zoey was missing out on already, so she gave me something she trusted I’d give her. A piece of home I never knew existed. Sure, it’s a damn recipe, but it’s their recipe.

I let go of the cart and face forward again.

We get halfway around the store, the cart already half full, when her usual helper from the group home finds us, deeming me useless.

I could stay, but she’s aware I’m not fond of others and would use this lady’s arrival as my escape anyway, so she turns to me before I can.

There’s a shadow in her dark eyes, one that has me pausing, but instead of voicing what’s crossed her mind, her hand finds my bicep and she squeezes. “Go on,” she orders quietly. “You know the way home.”

For some reason, I feel compelled to say, “I’m good, Maybell.”

She nods, the corner of her lips lifting. “You are, Tor. You will be.”

I pinch my lips together, nodding and get out of the aisle as quickly as I can.

I hate when she gets all crypto like that.

On my way out, I buy a drink, taking a second to open it and breathe before cutting across a small park beside the building. I get halfway through the open field when my steps slow, only to come to a full-on halt seconds later.

Across the road a sexy, sleek, black SUV I’d recognize anywhere is parked, and sitting right inside with the driver window rolled halfway down, is Captain.

His chin is dropped to his chest, and I can’t tell from here, but I think his eyes are closed.

Panic wraps around my ribs, squeezing like a tight rope, and I’m ready to run right for him, to make sure he’s okay, conscious and breathing, when suddenly his head pops up, the window rising with it.

His door is shoved open, and he slams it closed behind him just as quickly. Phone in hand, Captain takes quick steps up a long, curving driveway, and right as he reaches the hilt, where the cement meets the stone steps leading to the front door, it opens... and all the air is forced from my airway as Mallory is revealed on the other side.

As if my blood has turned to stone in my veins, the unexpected weight threatens to collapse my lungs and snap my ankles.

I’m frozen in place, unable to look away, traitorous eyes glued on what may very well be the end of our beginning, on Ken and his Barbie, flawless, gorgeous.

Made for each other.

He says something, and I wish I knew what, as she answers with a smile.

Mallory steps from the doorway, but keeps one hand inside, wrapped around the frame of the front door.

The ice that froze me here must have fully taken over, numbing other parts of me, because I feel nothing when she grips his shirt as he likes to do with mine, gently pulling him closer, and it doesn’t sting when she angles her mouth to his and he does nothing to stop her.

She’s cautious, almost slow motion in her advance, or maybe that’s how my mind decides to torture me, by slowing this nightmare down to make sure I can replay it with no moment left out.

Her pink lips lock with his.

Thick full lips I crave but am not allowed to touch.

That refuse to touch mine.

What’s worse than the kiss itself is Captain’s response, or lack thereof.

He doesn’t pull back, doesn’t tear away, or shove her off.

Her lips mold to his and he accepts them, accepts her.

Her feet begin to shuffle backward, her lips still aligned with his, fists still tight on his shirt as she leads him the two steps from the porch to the entryway.

She stares up at him, and he down at her as his foot makes the final move, officially placing him across the threshold.

Blindly, Captain reaches behind him, closing them inside.

As if the seal of the door shook the ground beneath me, cracked the earth to its core and released a molten lava right at my feet, the ice in my blood melts, and I’m flooded with everything at once.