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My microwave beeped, reminding me of my dinner.

“What are you having?”

“Soup.”

He frowned. “Soup? That’s it?”

“It’s plenty to eat for dinner on a hot day.”

“Angel, you need protein.” He winked. “How about I order some food for us?”

“It’s not my cheat day. That’s Friday.”

“So?”

“I have a system.” It kept me healthy, and I avoided gaining weight.

“Sweetheart, live a little. I can have In-N-Out here in fifteen minutes.”

Shit. “You don’t play fair,” I pouted.

“Then just say yes, feed me, Rain.”

He was so silly. “Feed me.”

“Rain,” he added.

OMG, he was annoying. “Rain,” I spat with sarcasm.

“You’re adorable when you get irritated.”

“It happens a lot when you’re around. It did back then, too,” I reminded him.

He laughed. “It sure did.”

Cuckoo ordered for us, and I took out my soup, allowing it to cool so I could cover it and place it back in the fridge. I hated wasting food. We never got enough growing up in foster care, and that spilled over into my adulthood, influencing how I budgeted, ate, and viewed every aspect of shopping, preparation, and storage of food items.

“Stop scrunching your nose.” He reached for my soup, dumped it in the sink, and held out his hand when I rushed to his side. “You don’t have to worry about your next meal.”

Was that what I was doing? No. “I just don’t like to be wasteful.”

“Listen.” His calloused palms rested against my cheeks. “I will sell everything I own, even my bike,” his voice cracked,“before I let you go hungry for one fucking hour. You understand me, angel?”

Just like he gave me his pillow and set me up with a bed in the closet on the day we met, Rain never stopped providing what I needed. I had no idea he would become my shield, protector, and family. Without him, I would never have survived that house.

“Yes.” I blinked back tears. “Stop sacrificing for me. It’s all you’ve ever done.”

“Because you’re all I want.”

I blinked, trying to hold back a tidal wave of emotion that threatened to drown me. His fingers brushed my jaw.

This was happening too fast.

I tried to wrap my head around the situation and maintain control. I had objections, dammit. Good ones, too.

I stepped away, letting his hands drop. “You smoke. It’s a disgusting habit.” I lifted my chin, refusing to look away from his relentless stare.

“I’ll never touch another cigarette. Scout’s honor.”