Page 203 of A Taste of Vanilla

I move lower, past the script on his ribs, to the small, broken compass I didn’t see the first time.

“And this?”

“That’s self-explanatory.”

“No, it’s not.”

“It’s a compass.”

“It’s broken.”

“Yes.”

“Which means it has emotional symbolism, and I’m nosy.”

“You’re many, many things.”

“I’m currently patient.”

His brow lifts.

“Fine. Impatient but invested.”

He looks at the ceiling.

“Warren.”

“I got it in Germany.”

I bite my cheek. Germany has existed in pieces around him. As a training ground and a wound of sorts. A place he mentions and doesn’t explain. The academy, and the apprenticeship.

I sit back a little on his lap.

“Tell me.”

His hand drops from my hair and rests between us. “I wanted one thing that was mine.” The sentence is flat as he looks at his hands. “After Marley was born, most things were decided before I got to want them. Our mom left. My dad drank. Bills existed, and Marley needed food, rides, school forms filled out, and a person who remembered parent-teacher conferences.” He swallows. “I wasn’t her dad, but there wasn’t anyone else doing the job.”

My chest aches.

I’ve always heard pieces of this from Marley. Hell, I lived some of it. Partially. But she always joked.Warren raised me. Warren packed my lunches.Or the time a teacher was skeptical of Warren signing her permission slip, so she almost wasn’t able to go.

But for him, the story sounds different.

“Baking was the first thing that made sense because it had rules. Time. Temperature. Ratios. If something failed, there was a reason. You could find it, fix it, and try again.”

I swallow. “That sounds like you.”

The corner of his lips tilts. “Yes.”

I touch the compass again. “And Germany?”

“I saved for years. Took jobs I hated. Moved where work was. Sent money back when Marley needed it. When she was old enough, stable enough, I left for training. Apprenticeship first. Then certifications. Then Weinheim.” His eyes flick to mine for the first time. “I was good.”

The way he says it hurts me.

“I know,” I say.

His gaze holds mine for half a second before he looks away again.