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Caden holds out the soup for me, and I let out a sigh as I take it from him. “Thanks,” I murmur, reveling in the warmth of the bowl in my palms—for now, until I start sweating again. It’s chicken noodle soup, and my nose may feel swollen from the inside, but the aroma makes my mouth water, nonetheless.
As I raise a spoonful to my mouth, steam rising off of it, Caden says, “Careful,” and I shoot him a look. He’s being a mother hen, which is amusing, as if I don’t realize the soup is burning hot. Caden presses his lips together upon my look and leans back. “Sorry.”
The soup is hot and it does burn my tongue, but it tastes good and I enjoy the burn of it down my irritated throat. “Good?” Caden asks quietly.
I nod, giving him a small smile. “Really good—thank you.”
Caden nods, glancing over at the TV. We are both silent for a few minutes, watching the show. It isn’t an uncomfortable silence—with us, it rarely ever is—but I can sense some tension gathered in his body. I can practically feel it. His words from earlier ring through my head, and as I sniffle, I ask, “You said you wanted to apologize. For what?”
I knew what, of course. Truthfully, a part of me feels a little bad and kind of awkward that he wants to apologize in the first place, but I also can’t ignore how I felt when he had offered his help with his money. I mean, he never even got to fully offering, but I knew where he was going, and I think if he actually said the words, it would have stung and embarrassed me a hell of a lot more.
Caden sighs, running his hand through dirty blonde hair as he turns his apologetic gaze to me. “I wasn’t thinking when I tried to. . . Offer my money,” he finishes awkwardly, and if I squint, I swear I can see a bit of a flush traveling up his neck. “I didn’t think of how it would seem or how it’d feel for you. I’m sorry about that. You know I wouldn’t intentionally disrespect you or make you feel bad in any way, Ria.”
The sincerity in his words and genuineness in his eyes has me softening, a small smile touching my lips as any remnants of lingering embarrassment fade away. I know Caden, and I know he wouldn’t ever purposefully make me feel like I had the other day. My frustration from my own slip up and, maybe, the anger I still felt from my interaction with Logan had swung to the forefront, and unfortunately it just made me snap at Caden. He was just trying to be nice and, yeah, maybe he didn’t go about it the best way, but what he said wasn’t unforgivable in any way.
So, I nod and smile at him, leaning back on the couch, still cross-legged as I hold the bowl in my lap. “It’s okay,” I tell him, my voice only slightly rough now that the soup is helping. “I know you didn’t mean anything by it. I was just—I was embarrassed, I guess."
"I know,” Caden says, the muscle in his jaw ticking. “But I want you to know that you don’t ever have to be—not with me, at least.”
“Yeah,” I murmur quietly, taking another spoonful of my soup. My cheeks are warm, though I don’t know if it has anything to do with the soup or being sick. “I appreciate the soup, Caden, but I don’t want you to get sick,” I repeat, glancing at him.
“I’ll be fine,” he brushes me off, getting comfortable on the couch.
A scoff of a laugh escapes me. “Okay,” I say sarcastically. “Andifyou get sick?”
He throws me a sexy half grin. “Then you can bring me soup.”
I’m careful not to spill my soup when I kick his thigh in response.
* * *
True to his word, Caden doesn’t leave. A few hours later, when Cody shows up with Elaine, Caden tells him that he’s around to make sure Elaine and I are good, despite my protests. My brother, that traitor, merely grins and whispers, “You’ve got Caden Bennett wanting to take care of your sick ass. Embrace it,” before leaving.
I’m still on the couch, pouting at my daughter as I tell her to keep her distance from her sick mommy, but I watch as Caden takes it upon himself to entertain Elaine. “Please don’t burn down my kitchen,” I call out somewhat hoarsely, lifting my head a little to watch the two of them.
They’re baking—or, well,tryingto bake. Elaine mentioned wanting cookies and then ran to the kitchen, and after pointing at the snack cabinet that Caden opened up for her, she pulled out the mix of chocolate chip cookies. Now, the two of them are working on making them. Hopefully without setting things on fire.
“I know my way around a kitchen, Daria, relax,” Caden calls out. “I’ve done some baking in my time.”
“Oh yeah? When was that?” I ask with a snort. “Between lifting weights and tackling other dudes in tights on the field?”
He throws me a resigned look as he takes out some eggs from the fridge. “Being sick makes you extra sarcastic, doesn’t it?” he muses before leaning down to Elaine, who sits on the counter next to the bowl where they will be mixing the ingredients. “Your mom’s the queen of sarcasm, I think,” he whispers to her, but loud enough for my benefit, his amusement-filled eyes on me while he says it.
Elaine giggles and even though her back is to me, I can just picture her adorable smile in my head perfectly. “Mama’s a queen,” she nods in agreement, and it only warms my heart even more.
Caden chuckles, standing straight with a shake of his head. “Can’t argue with that.”
I roll my eyes, cheeks flushing as I return my gaze to the TV while the two of them bake. I put onFriendsupon Elaine’s return, not wanting something as raunchy asNarcosplaying on the screen where she can see it. But my attention keeps drifting towards the two of them, every time I hear Elaine’s giggle and Caden’s deeper chuckle. I watch as he gives her a chance to mix the ingredients, hands her the chocolate chips to sprinkle in.
They are nothing but laughter, and it tightens my chest more and more. He holds the bowl as she mixes, and she tells him he’s making the balls of dough too big when they are rolling them to put on the tray. It’s constant back and forth between them, and when the tray is in the oven, he helps her wash her hands before she’s running off to her room to play with her toys while the cookies bake.
Caden doesn’t join me on the couch until after he has finished washing the dishes and utensils they used, and I can’t help but smile at him as he settles down next to me. “Thank you,” I say, wanting to reach forward and take his hand in mine. But I suppress the urge. “For the soup and for hanging out with her.”
“Of course,” Caden says, as if there was nothing else he wanted to do more. He grins toward the hallway. We can vaguely hear Elaine talking to herself as she plays in her room. “She’s my little buddy.” My grin widens and Caden looks at me. “Are you feeling any better?”
Honestly, watching them—I had forgotten I was even sick in the first place. But that feels a bit too intimate to say, feels like it carries a little too much. So, as the scent of chocolate chip cookies fills my apartment, I merely smile and nod and say, “Yeah, I do.”
* * *
