Chapter 7

"Watch this!" CeCe says, tiptoeing across her balance beam in the living room as I kick my feet up on the ottoman.

I can't remember the last time I just sat after practice and it makes me feel restless, even though I should be feeling grateful for Summer's help. The sound of metal clanging against a pot, tied with some country song coming from the kitchen almost has me on my feet to see what she's doing, but if I'm going to accept her help, I have to try to relinquish a little bit of control.

God, help me with that.

A timer goes off and Summer pops up in the living room, holding a pink bowl full of macaroni and cheese with a spoon sticking out the top for CeCe.

"All right. Come eat," she says, running her free hand over CeCe's head as they walk together back to the dining room. Summer's blonde hair is cascading down her back in big loose curls against a pair of denim overalls. Overalls . Who would've thought?

My hand runs through my hair and I let my head rest against the couch cushion for a few moments, closing my eyes in an attempt to relax.

"Yours is almost done," Summer says.

I squint open one eye, but she's already gone back into the kitchen before I've had the chance to say anything.

She can't make me dinner. Doing it for CeCe is one thing, but me? I can't allow it. Somehow, it feels like crossing a line in this arrangement we have, and I don't need her to start getting overly comfortable in my kitchen.

Sighing, I get up from the couch to head into the kitchen. There's an old country song playing on Alexa, and Summer's back is to me as she stands over the stove. She sways a little to the slow rhythm of the song and I catch myself staring for just the briefest moment. It's been years since I've had a woman in this kitchen. Well, aside from my mother or my sister. I shouldn't be staring at her. Under any other circumstance, I wouldn't be. But Summer's always so… happy. I can't decide if I find it irritating or something I'm actually envious of. She's always been this way—bubbly and friendly—but a shark when she needs to be.

My mind flashes to three years ago when Summer found out that Kristen left. She was so angry and protective that day. I think if I would've given her the green light, she probably would've hunted her down that night. Something was different about Summer at that moment. I saw a side of her that was full of more than just jokes and positivity. She was sincere and thoughtful, earnest and strong. She spoke like she was making a speech in front of a room full of people, but it was just me and her. She was a friend in a moment where I needed one.

I shake my head, snapping myself out of wherever I was going with that memory.

"Thanks for making CeCe's, but don't worry about mine."

"Well, it's already done," she says, spinning around with a pan of chicken, carrots, and roasted potatoes in her hand.

"What is that?" I ask, practically salivating as the smell drifts my way. It's been so long since someone has cooked for me, and while it's not something I expect to happen again, it's nice.

"Parmesan chicken with roasted carrots and potatoes. I have no idea how long these carrots were in there, but you've got a drawer full of veggies that probably need to be used." She cocks an eyebrow at me in warning.

I swallow, staring at the plate as she places the food on it like she's trying to earn a Michelin star. Carefully centering the chicken and adding the carrots and potatoes around it.

"Yeah." I chuckle, pinching the bridge of my nose. "I actually suck at making vegetables. I never know how to season them."

Summer doesn't miss a beat when she hands me the plate. "You don't suck at anything, Chase. But I can teach you how to season vegetables, it's easy."

I barely wait ten seconds before I start digging in, noticing CeCe smiling at me as I sit across from her while she scoops another spoonful of macaroni in her mouth. Instead of Summer joining us at the table, I hear the sink running in the kitchen and the sound of pots and pans clanging together. I've been so busy daydreaming of the past, or brainstorming how to make sure she doesn't do this whole dinner thing again, that I forgot to be a decent fucking human and offer the woman who just watched my child a seat at the table.

The chair legs scrape against the floor as I pull my seat back and walk into the kitchen.

"You didn't make any for yourself?"

"No. I figured I'd get out of your hair and not overstay my welcome. I know there's only so much Summer you can handle, Chase." She smiles, but somehow that makes me feel like shit.

She turns on the disposal and adds the soap to the dishwasher while I stand there feeling like a moron. Most of the time Summer and I have spent together, there has always been a third person, my sister or one of our friends. It's rare that she and I are ever alone together, and this moment reminds me of why. We are so different in every way I can think of. She's carefree and goes with the flow, I need plans and a nine o'clock bedtime. I never mind being around Summer, she's always been a good person in my life, but she's right about one thing—there's only so much of her I can take.

"Right, okay." I definitely feel like I owe her more than I'm giving her at this moment. But at the end of the day, she took care of CeCe when I needed her to and that's what we agreed to. Anything more is just… unnecessary.

"I can come by tomorrow afternoon too. That is, if you haven't already decided to fire me." She points the dirty spatula at me before quickly adding it to the dishwasher and closing it.

I bite my lip slightly to stifle a smirk at her sarcastic comment.

"You aren't my employee, Kincaid. I can't fire you. I… I guess I need you," I say, tipping my head at her before I walk back to the dining room table as she softly laughs.

"Have a good night, Chase." The sound of her laugh carries into the next room. "And you have a good night too." She blows a kiss at CeCe.

"Yeah. Tell Drew I said hey," I reply.

At the mention of his name I see the smile fade from her face. And the light in her bright blue eyes dull as her shoulders fall the slightest bit. She doesn't answer, she just nods and pulls her purse over her shoulder. I want to ask her why her lip just quivered and why her body tensed when I said his name. But that's not my business and I don't need to know about Summer's love life. I've never given it a second thought before.

"Hey, Kincaid," I say before she can walk out the door.

"Yeah?" She turns, her dark eyelashes fanning her cheeks when she looks my way.

"Thanks for dinner."