He emptied all three boxes, carried them to the hall, then stood in the doorway and admired his office. His office. He never would have imagined having such a nice space to call his own. The open corner needed something. A standing lamp? No, he’d have to run an extension cord along the wall, which would look messy. Maybe a potted artificial ficus tree. With no window bringing in natural light, a real one wouldn’t survive, but they made some nice fake ones these days. Then some pictures up on the walls—should he hang his Spurs poster in here?—and people wouldn’t even remember the room had once been used as a storage closet.
An odd idea struck. What if he put his photo with Rachel on the shelf? They were supposed to serve together. Maybe having her picture in his office would be encouraging. Comforting. Like she was still with him, at least in thought. His heart twisted into a knot. Yes, he wanted her picture in here.
He went to the hallway and stomped the boxes flat, then tucked them under his arm and strode up the long dark hallway in the direction of the fellowship hall. He dropped the flattened boxes next to the big trash canister just inside the doors, then headed for the rear exit.
As he passed the kitchen serving window, a scent caught his attention. Chocolate. But not chocolate bars or even chocolate cake. He smelled the rich dark chocolate aroma of Kenzie’s brownies. Funny how he recognized it after eating them only a couple of times, but they were distinct. Like her rug.
He made a sharp turn and entered the kitchen, flipping on the lights as he crossed the threshold. No pan or plate sat anywhere on the counters, but he smelled brownies. They were here somewhere. He checked behind the door marked Pantry. No brownies there. Disappointed, he closed the door. He turned a slow circle, searching every surface, and spotted a foil-covered pan stuck above the refrigerator.
With a little half skip, he hurried to the fridge and lifted down the pan. Even before he peeked under the foil, the smell gave the contents away. He pulled in a deep breath, savoring the aroma, then lifted the foil aside. He jolted. What a mess. Whoever got into the pan hadn’t used a spatula. Or even a fork. Had an animal dug through the pan? Maybe that’s why it’d been put up high—to protect it from another invasion. But then why hadn’t the brownies been thrown away? Who would want them after a dog or some other pest got into them? He for sure wasn’t that desperate.
He covered the pan and put it back where he’d found it, then headed for his apartment.
Jase
Jase pushed his key into the lock, twisted the knob, and stepped inside his apartment. Then he stopped, his heart firing into his throat.
Cullen Wade slouched in the middle of Jase’s sofa, knees widespread and arms stretched along the sofa’s back. He didn’t even move when Jase entered, only offered a lopsided smirk and said, “Hi.”
Jase looked at the keys in his hand, then at Cullen. “How’d you get in here?”
Cullen shrugged. “Pretty easy if you’ve got a nice stiff library card. Which I do.”
His next expenditure would be a dead bolt. Jase dropped his keys into his pocket. Remembering what Sister Kraft had said about having kids up here, he left his door open even though it let in the cold air. He folded his arms and aimed a stern frown at Cullen. “It isn’t cool to let yourself in at somebody’s place when they aren’t there. It’s a good way to get yourself accused of breaking and entering.”
Cullen swung his arms down and sat up, clamping his hands over the knees of his torn jeans and glaring at Jase from beneath thick brown bangs. “Does it look like I broke my way in? Besides, you told everybody at church that you were always available, twenty-four seven. But maybe you didn’t mean it.”
The challenge in the boy’s tone set Jase’s teeth on edge. Did he have to test Jase at every turn? But he realized the real reason Cullen bugged him. Cullen reminded Jase too much of his teenage self, using cockiness to hide unworthiness, rejecting others before they had the chance to reject him. If Jase’s foster parents and Brother Tony and Sister Eileen and so many others at Grace Chapel in San Antonio hadn’t loved on him in