Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 74730 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74730 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
“I get it. We’re all a little off as we figure out how to move forward.” I included myself in that because I was also in a new phase, still finding my footing, but surer every day. “And Eric is going to grieve regardless. It’s okay to grieve. That’s what the missing something feeling is. You sharing happy memories is a good thing. Tell me what he said about science.”
“Dr. Dad always said not to guess at an answer. He said to trust science over hunches. And that science pushes the world to change by providing facts. I like facts.” Wren exhaled hard. Facts and science were a security blanket for them, and I hated that these particular facts had to be so grim. “Why couldn’t science fix him?”
“I wish I had an answer for that too. Maybe the science isn’t there yet. Maybe it will take more research. Maybe someone in your generation will come up with new treatments for pancreatic cancer.”
“Maybe me.” Wren nodded, chin taking on a stubborn tilt.
“Maybe you.” I smiled. “Dr. Dad would be proud of you regardless, but if you discover new cancer treatments? That would be super cool.”
“No if. I will.” Wren sounded not unlike a certain big-eared green Jedi.
“Good. Keep experimenting. Safely. And keep believing in science.”
“Okay.” Wren smiled for the first time since I’d entered the kitchen. Right as I returned the smile, the doorbell rang. Wren leaped ahead of me as the dog charged up from the basement. “Denver’s here.”
Between the dog and Wren, I was the last to greet Denver as he came into the foyer. And as it turned out, I had zero idea how to handle said greeting.
“Hey.”
“Hey, yourself.”
We stood there staring at each other. The warm light of the entryway made Denver’s skin even more golden than usual, and his hair was more tamed, slicked back into a neat bun. He wore a short-sleeve black-and-white patterned shirt with buttons and cargo pants, which gave him an air of heading out for a nice meal in Hawaii. Nicer clothes than I’d seen him wear, and perversely, his looking date-ready had me shuffling my feet and clearing my throat.
“Oh, just kiss already.” Wren rolled their eyes before scampering back to the kitchen, dog at their heels.
“That sounded like an order.” Denver’s smile was tight, but his gaze dropped to my mouth.
“Yup.” I stretched up for a fast peck, but then Denver pulled me in for a longer kiss. Better. My awkwardness drained away, replaced by desire.
“Whoa.” John came bounding down the stairs only to stop halfway as Denver and I jumped apart. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay.” I wiped my mouth and tried not to look as guilty as I felt. “Dinner will be ready in a bit. We’re making patty melts with Wren, but you’re welcome to help.”
“Nah.” John waved away the offer, gesture making him look that much more like Wren. “I wanted to see if you might want to take me driving after dinner, but it looks like you’ll be busy.”
“Go.” Denver mouthed the word at me. I’d been planning on sneaking in some more kissing, either here or at Denver’s place, but some things had to take priority.
“Not too busy for driving practice.” I made my voice hearty, channeling my dad’s boundless enthusiasm. I remembered how eager Declan had been for driving practice. And like Wren, John was grieving. This was the least I could do. “How about we practice some parallel parking while we’re out?”
“Sure thing.” He returned upstairs with a small smile, leaving Denver and me to head for the kitchen.
“Nice goggles.” Denver nodded at Wren. I hadn’t been sure how he’d react to Wren’s scientist outfit. Not everyone knew how to deal with neurospicy teens, but Denver did a perfect job of being accepting without seeming patronizing. “You wanna add bacon to the burgers since you’re all prepared for grease?”
“Bacon.” Wren made a happy noise before writing something in their notebook. “The answer is always yes.”
The three of us made a happy cooking trio. Denver showed Wren how to use the griddle we usually used for pancakes for burger patties and let Wren do most of the work assembling the ingredients for the patty melts while I chopped potatoes for the home fries. Awkward uncertainty long gone, cooking with Denver simply felt right. Natural, like we’d been doing this for years.
“You’re good at this,” I said in a low voice when Wren went upstairs to fetch Rowan and John.
“Cooking?” Denver looked up from whisking the salad dressing. “I would hope so.”
“No, teaching.” I bumped his shoulder with my own. “For someone who gripes about not understanding kids, you’re doing great.”
My praise earned a rare flush from Denver. “Wren’s a good kid.”
“Yeah. They miss their late father a lot. We talked about it earlier. First time I’ve gotten them to talk about it. I hope I said the right things.” Admitting my doubts to Denver was another thing that felt natural.