“About my father? Don’t be.”
Again she blinked, looking unsure what to say or where to begin. And then she said, “I totally understand complicated family dynamics. You don’t have to explain further if you don’t want to, but I’m here if you want someone to listen.”
He thought about it for a second, decided it might be a welcome change of topic from the stresses of the day for her. But first, “How do you like breakfast for dinner?”
“Is that a serious question?” She laughed. The sound was almost musical.
“I guess not.”
He started pulling out what little supplies were there. Knowing this was all the food in the house brought on more of that guilt that he’d been so focused on his own sorrow that he hadn’t been making sure Kit was okay. He would never forgive himself if she went to bed hungry because he was too wrapped up in his own life to notice. Cormac sure as hell couldn’t take care of anyone else.
Blaize should have known better. He should have stopped by to make sure Kit had everything she needed.
It didn’t take long to whip up the omelets. He toasted bagels that looked dangerously close to being too old. He set out an almost-empty jar of jelly. There were a few hot dogs left that subbed for sausage. He cut them up and served them alongside breakfast. Lastly, he had one can of pork and beans.
“This is a feast,” Carys said. “What can I do to help?”
“Set out the plates and then fill yours.” He motioned toward the cabinet, thinking how nice it was to have someone who was eager to do their part. From day one, he’d taken care of Lynn. He’d overheard her bragging to a friend that she didn’t have to lift a finger around the house. Looking back, she’d allowed him to step in and do everything since for her. He never knew which version of her would show up in a given hour. He’d loved her and made a commitment when he said his vows. So, no regrets.
“Thank you for pitching in, by the way,” he said to Carys.
“I literally did nothing.” She shook her head, but the way the corners of her mouth upturned made him grin.
Kit waltzed in. “Something smells good in here.”
“I was just about to call for you,” he said as he cut off the stovetop. “You have perfect timing.” He motioned toward the table. “Take a seat.”
Kit smiled before doing as asked. “Guess I get the princess treatment today.”
Carys put down placemats and set the table, put on a fresh pot of coffee, and joined them. “This does smell amazing.”
Those words caused his chest to puff up with pride. He glanced around the table and couldn’t help thinking this was what he’d had in mind years ago when he thought about having a family.
Whoa! Talk about putting the cart before the horse.
This seemed like a good time to remind himself this wasn’t his family with the exception of Kit. The kid wasn’t his, and Carys was just doing her job.
If that had to become a mantra, so be it.
IT WAS Ashame Blaize might not be Rue’s father. Sitting here at the table with him and Kit gave Carys all the warm-and-fuzzy feelings she hoped for when she walked into a place where she had to make an assessment and leave a child.
The need for repairs made more sense now that she knew Blaize drove in last night after learning his father had recently passed. The house had a homey quality despite the disrepair. Places had a feeling, and it had everything to do with the people occupying the space. In two years on the job, she’d walked into filth. This place was tidy.
One glance at the way Blaize looked at his grandmother told Carys everything she needed to know about how much he respected her. And she adored her grandson right back. Even without her mother in the picture, this would have been an amazing place for Rue to grow up.
Carys believed Blaize would get this home in tip-top shape. All it needed was a hammer, some nails, and a little elbow grease—sweat equity.
“Thanks for cooking, Blaize.” Kit stood up. She must’ve moved a little too fast because she swayed. Before she could fall, Carys was at her side with a firm hand on the older woman’s back.
“Are you okay?” The concern in Blaize’s voice melted a little more of the ice encasing Carys’s heart.
“I’m fine.” Kit tried to play it off like it was nothing. “Here, let me help with dishes.”
“Sorry, no can do,” Carys said. “I’m on dish duty. Gotta earn my keep if I’m going to stay the night.”
“Don’t be silly. You’re a guest.” Kit grabbed onto Carys’s hand as she took a step back from the table.
“It would make me feel better about imposing if you let me take this one.” Carys helped Kit across the room. “Plus, it’s way too early to end your princess treatment. How often does this come around?”
