Page 32 of Make It Last

“No, but I’ve heard of it.”

“They’ve got staples and rotating themes. This week’s theme is Mediterranean.”

I squealed. “I’m so excited!”

His grin widened, and my belly somersaulted. Heat flushed up my neck and into my cheeks. Blush central. I prayed he’d chalk it up to the cold air.

“Come in, come in,” I said, stepping back carefully.

“Easy there,” he warned as I teetered a bit.

“I got it. Turns out, crutches take a lot of coordination.”

He closed the door behind him, his gaze warm and a little amused. “You could try using both crutches, you know.”

“But I’m in my own house, and one’s easier. Ever had to use crutches?”

“Once. Sprained my ankle when I played football in high school.”

“Of course you played football.”

He chuckled and kicked off his boots on the way to carrying the bags to the kitchen counter. I slid onto a stool beside the island and tried very hard not to drool over the way his T-shirt fit his shoulders. He was so hot it was ridiculous.

“What do you mean ‘of course’ I played football?” he teased.

“I mean…” I gestured to his tall, muscled everything. “You look like you did.”

He was quiet for a beat before he shrugged. “I was decent. Didn’t love it. My dad wanted me to play.”

“Ah, that kind of thing. I understand.”

He raised a brow. “Your dad wanted you to play football?”

I laughed. “No. Just parental expectations. Most of us deal with that one way or another.”

He started unpacking food containers. Hummus, pita bread, something on skewers, and all of it yummy-smelling. “What did your parents expect from you?” he asked.

I hesitated. “Kind of everything.” He paused and looked over at me. “My younger sister had medical issues. So I was the kid who had to take care of everything.”

His hands stilled. “Is she okay?”

I swallowed. “She passed away. It was sort of expected.”

His expression softened, and he laid both palms flat on the counter. “I’m really sorry.”

I gave him a small smile. “It’s okay.”

Somehow, in that tiny kitchen, surrounded by food containers and the late evening sunlight angling through the windows, I felt something shift. This tiny exchange made me feel like I wasn’t carrying everything alone anymore.

“I miss her,” I added, “because she was awesome. But it wasn’t unexpected. We knew it could happen eventually.”

Tanner nodded slowly. “Loss is hard. Grief’s usually complicated.”

There was something about the way he said it that made me think he understood. Grief was one messy thing.

“Do you have any siblings?” I asked, curious.

His eyes lit up. “Oh, I do. My younger sister, Sophie. She’s a firecracker.”