Page 56 of Unleashed

“I got two appetizers.” I shrug when she narrows her eyes at me. “Didn’t know what you guys liked.” I pass over the container of roasted Brussels sprouts topped with a sweet and savory drizzle. “Plus, I figured you would want to be sure Zara had at least a little bit of vegetable.”

It’s something my mother has always been hyperfixated on. Making sure we don’t just eat enough, but that we also get the right things. That’s not to say there wasn’t room for dessert.

Because I also got that.

Maren wrinkles her nose at the Brussels sprouts. “I think I might have to take a hard pass on those.”

That surprises me. “Really?” Brussels sprouts are sort of having a moment right now, and I figured Maren would be thrilled I brought them.

Her grimace deepens. “They aren’t my favorite.”

“Maren only likes cucumbers, peas, and salad.” Zara reaches out, grabbing the container I set down. “But I like them.”

I’m thrilled Zara is happy with my choice, but completely fucking confused to discover Maren’s pallet is so limited. “The only vegetables you eat are cucumber, peas, and lettuce?”

“She didn’t say I don’t eat them.” Maren grabs the bag I’ve stopped unpacking. “She said I don’t like them.”

I watch Zara happily plowing through the crisp, but tender sprouts, even more impressed with Maren than I was five minutes ago. She’s clearly put in the effort to make sure her little sister doesn’t have the same preferences she does. Probably going so far as to eat things she doesn’t enjoy just to make sure her sister tries them.

But I’m still shocked Maren’s taste buds are so limited. “Has it always been that way?”

Maren pops the lid off a container, peering in at one of the steak and baked potato meals. “Has what always been that way?”

I take the container from her hands since it holds the larger portion of steak I selected for myself. “Have you always not liked vegetables?”

Maren pulls another meal free, finding one of the four ounce fillets, this one with fries. “I don’t know. I didn’t really have them as a kid.”

I chuckle, imagining my mother’s reaction if I’d told her I wasn’t eating vegetables as a kid. “I’m surprised you got away with that. My mother would have throttled me.”

Maren goes to the kitchen, grabbing a pair of scissors from the drawer before returning. There’s an odd expression on her face. One I can’t quite make sense of. Combined with her sudden silence, I have to think I’ve said something wrong.

Except she’s not trying to shank me with the scissors, so maybe I don’t understand what’s happening after all.

Maren uses the scissors to cut the steak up into manageable pieces for Zara, then passes it over, her silence dragging out as she goes back into the kitchen.

This time I follow her, cornering her at the far end.

“Tell me what’s wrong.” I’m admittedly not fantastic at this sort of thing, and when Maren’s eyes flash, I take a deep breath before amending. “Please.”

Maren’s gaze holds mine, and for a second I think she’s going to give me what I want.

But then she steps around me, planting an elbow in my ribs as she goes. It’s more of a nudge than a jab, so maybe she’s not as upset as I think.

“This is really yummy.” Zara’s mouth is as full as she can get it, crammed with what appears to be a combination of Brussels sprouts, fries, and steak. “You should make dinner tomorrow too.”

“Deal.”

I don’t hesitate. Not just because I like making sure Maren and Zara are well fed, and not because it’s more fun being in here with them than sitting in my car, but because I don’t like the lingering look of sadness on Maren’s face. And it’s clearly going to take me some time to figure out why it’s there.

“Trevor doesn’t have time to be feeding us every night.” Maren takes her seat at the table, expression stern.

I take my own chair, matching the look on her face. “Yes, he does.”

I don’t know if it’s technically the truth. Obviously I should have been at the office last night instead of parked outside Maren’s house. But everything worked out, so it shouldn’t hurt anything for me to stop by again tomorrow. And maybe the next day.

Maren slams both hands on the table, sighing loudly as she looks across at me. “You can’t keep sleeping in your car every night.”

I give her a smile as I lift a bite of steak to my mouth, “Are you inviting me to stay inside?”