Dale frowned, glancing at his wife before a look of disapproval coated Gage and Ethan on the floor. But that’s not who most of us were watching.
We all stared at Harmony, wondering if she would lose her shit.
She noticed. “What?” Her gaze bounced around the room, rolling over each foster kid. “It’s just a vase. A thing,” she emphasized. “Am I surprised? Well, yes. It doesn’t matter. It can be replaced. But you—all of you—aren’t replaceable.”
My eyes widened. She barely knows me.
Judging by the reaction of the others, they felt just as touched by her vehement declaration.
Dale scratched the back of his neck and shrugged. “Besides… I already glued it together more than once.”
Wait. He did?
Harmony confirmed, “You’re what matters, not some stupid goddamn vase.”
Harmony cussed?
A sudden laugh belted from my chest. The first real laugh I had in… well, too long to consider.
Gage snorted.
Grinning, Ethan shook his head, pushing back a few strands of dark hair from his eyes.
“Sh-sh-shit,” Seb added with a chuckle. “Th-that was unex-ex-p-p-pected.”
Caleb snickered into his hand.
Sarah popped a bubble with her chewing gum, not at all fazed by the loud noise.
Finn ignored it all. “Dale, can you take me to practice now, or what?”
Harmony did some ignoring, also. Her lips twitched before curling upward into a mischievous grin. “How about some snickerdoodle cookies?”
Blinking, I had to adjust to the quick turnaround. I was learning fast that Harmony enjoyed baking, caring for the people who lived in this house, and she had a fierce, loving nature. A woman who reminded me strongly of the one who fought to protect her baby boy.
A phantom ache pulsed in my chest, and I fought the urge to rub my sternum.
Grins appeared all around. The tension in the room evaporated.
“But first, this mess gets cleaned up. Am I understood?” The question was directed at Gage and Ethan, who both solemnly nodded.
Dale kissed his wife, then left with Finn.
The rest of the day passed without incident.
Dinner at the Dale and Harmony Weathers’ foster house was just as unpredictable as breakfast. They were the only two meals where Harmony cooked. At lunch, we grabbed our own, but there were always options like tuna salad, peanut butter and jelly, or ham and cheese sandwiches to choose from, as well as fresh fruit, and a side like potato salad, chips, or pretzels.
“Healthy options,” Harmony explained after my arrival. No one grew hungry on her watch.
“Johnny?” she asked as I entered the kitchen for dinner. “Would you take this casserole to the table for me? It’s heavy.”
Feeling proud that she wanted me to do the job, I walked toward the stove. “Sure.”
She lifted the nine-by-thirteen-inch dish and held it out.
When I reached for it, she didn’t let go. In a low voice, she surprised me when she spoke. “Just so you know, I don’t mind about those frozen meals in the garage deep freezer. Anytime you want one instead of my cooking, I won’t be offended.”
Blinking back my surprise, I answered her in a choked voice, “Okay.”
