Fighter (Coffee Shop #4) - Katie Cross Page 0,41

occasion to meet under any circumstance that results from him hurting you.

Despite the fact that he spoke about my brother, a warm flutter moved in my stomach. Part of my love of living a nomadic life had been the way I could meet people through my waitressing jobs, and then spend my days off with myself. Traveling the world solo meant the quiet evenings were all mine to do with as I wanted.

Today, however, a quiet evening alone sounded exactly opposite from what I usually wanted. Giggling with Ava or just being in the same room as Benjamin, even if I never once had his attention, sounded far better.

What an entirely new feeling.

Before I lost my courage, I sent my next message and held my breath.

Serafina: You up for a home cooked Sunday meal? My mom made way too much pot roast and I'm willing to share.

His reply came immediately after.

Benjamin: Only if you bring yourself over with it and stay to eat. We just rented a new princess movie, so you can't get out of that.

I let out a little squeal.

Serafina: Princess movies are my jam! On my way.

14

Benjamin

“I come bearing gifts!” Serafina cried.

I opened the front door to find her carrying a massive crock pot, clad in fuzzy purple slippers that would have frightened a lesser man, and several bags over her arm. A pair of aviators hid her eyes from me, but didn't dim the immediate joy I felt seeing her again.

“You do way too much for us already.”

“I love it!”

“Then welcome,” I said, “and let me take that.”

She gratefully handed the crock pot over, and the meaty, home-cooked-goodness smell of a pot roast bubbled out. What smelled better than slow cooked potatoes, carrots, onions, or meat on a Sunday afternoon? Absolutely nothing.

Except maybe the waft of coconut that came in with her.

In the kitchen, she unburdened herself of the bags, then extracted a new coloring book, a package of paints, a t-shirt with neon green glitter that said rockstar, and a giant roll of cookie dough from one.

“From my mother.” She slid the glasses on top of her head. “She moonlights as the Easter bunny.”

My eyes widened. “All of that is from your parents?”

“Yep.”

“Wow. No wonder Ava loves them.” That felt awkward the moment I said it, considering the fact that I had also met them. Was I supposed to love them also? “Meeting your parents was fun,” I added, in case she noticed the stumble.

She illuminated like a Christmas tree.

“They are very fun. I'm glad you got to meet them. They were obviously in love with Ava.” She gestured to the gifts. “So thank you for letting them spoil her.”

“They were so . . .”

“Extra?”

“Bright.” I cracked half a smile. “I was going to say bright. Happy. Fun. My parents were always so serious. The best word for Mom is stressed-out, and Dad . . .” I trailed off. “He was . . . sad.”

Her expression fell. “I read about your Dad. I'm sorry.”

My eyebrow quirked. Dad had committed suicide years ago after a tragic accident left him paralyzed from the waist down. He'd battled hard for years, but finally succumbed to the deep depression that consumed him after.

“Where did you read about him?” I asked.

Not a hint of abashedness showed on her face, even though I was ready to grill her on what else she read about me . . . and whether she believed it. The privacy invasion of the media in my life had been a blitz. Ironically, Sadie had sheltered me from much of it through her job, but once she left, it hit like a firehose. Even now, I still felt twitchy about people knowing anything about me that I hadn’t told them personally.

Serafina waved a hand. “In a magazine or something sometime after the gym opened, I can't remember.”

“It's been hard to work through it because my family isn't big on communicating. There certainly isn't the same sense of support that I saw from your parents, unless you talk about siblings. Maverick has always been in my corner.”

She smiled. “I can tell. You two have always seemed close. I mean, you're not tattoo-level like I am with him, but he seems fond of you.”

A lot of thoughts occurred to me then. About my brother, this conversation, and the thought that had been rotating around my head that told me so much of her brightness probably stemmed from such unconditional parental love. But the one that thought that rose above

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