Page 55 of Chasing Hope

I shrug a shoulder. “Thought we could try out a new recipe together.”

“You want to burn your kitchen down?”

A surprised bark of laughter escapes me. “No.”

“Well, that’s what will happen.”

“Come on, Dove, you’re not that bad,” I tease, leading us inside.

She reaches for a grocery basket but I swoop in before she can. There’s no way in hell I’m trailing behind her like an incompetent fool as she carries everything for me.

“You say that like you’re forgetting about the time I almost burnt the house down trying to make eggs on toast.”

I snort at the memory. “Trust me, no one could ever forget that.”

There’s one thing she’s right about—Evie is as cool as a cucumber in stressful situations. I’ll never forget hearing her from the bottom of the steps, yelling out a casual, “Hey guys, I called 911! The fireman will be here in a few minutes, but I put it out, don’t worry!”

Caleb and I took one look at each other before sprinting down the stairs to find Evie had burnt off the cabinets above the toaster. She just stood there looking a little sheepish but besides that, she wasn’t freaking out like I would have.

It’s why she’s been scaring me so much lately. I’ve never seen her so shaken by something before. She’s usually a rock amongst chaos.

I’ve been going half mad trying to figure out what happened, and in doing so, I’ve broken my first ever promise to Caleb. If he knew how distraught she was, he’d blow a lid, and that’s exactly why I haven’t called him.

I will if Evie asks for him, of course, if she ever so much as hints that she needs her brother, but something tells me that his well-meaning suffocation would only do more harm than good. Right now, I’d rather her fall apart in a safe environment.

Trailing behind me as I grab various ingredients, Evie asks, “What are we cooking, big guy?”

I quirk a brow at the new nickname. “Food.”

She rolls her eyes so dramatically I’m surprised they don’t get stuck. “No shit, Sherlock. Whatrecipeare we trying?”

“You don’t like surprises, do you?”

“No, and you know that.”

“Thought maybe that would have changed over the years.”

“Nope,” she says, popping thepbefore jabbing a finger into my chest. Fuck, just the mere touch of her pointer finger has electricity running through my veins.

My fingers twitch at my sides, desperately yearning to reach out and touch her in any way, even if it were just a mere graze of her skin. Not being able to resist, my right hand jumps out, brushing below her chin as I tell her, “Chicken rigatoni pasta.”

Her eyes widen with excitement. “Spicy?”

“Of course.”

Bouncing on the balls of her toes, those plush pink lips of hers spread wide, making my heart skip a beat. “Oh, fuck yes! I’m excited now.”

“You were doubting my culinary skills?”

“Your skills, no. Your taste in food? Absolutely.”

“My taste in food is elite,” I object as she leads us toward the pasta aisle.

As she peers at me over her shoulder, I have the sudden insatiable urge to take a photo of her. It’s the first time I’ve seen her carefree since the phone call with Serena. There’s a lightness to her step, a spark of life behind her blue eyes, and she’sradiant.

I’m surprised there isn’t a halo hovering around the crown of her head.

I’ve fantasized scenarios similar to this, where we live together and go shopping, just mundane tasks made brighter by her presence. I’ve dreamed about being in the grocery store with her, listening to her talk as I slide my hand around the lower part of her back like it’s second nature, then bending and kissing her.