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I don’t know how long I stood in that doorway, watching him, wishing I was an infinitely better man than I actually was, wondering if maybe, somehow, impossibly, there might be a way for me to get my shit together enough to be worthy of him. For me to not fuck this up any worse than I already had—and somehow fix what’d I’d already damaged.

And then he saw me. Or smelled me, I don’t honestly know. But he looked up, and the fleeting, saddish smile he gave me made me want to cry.

But that was out of the question. Because there was no way in hell I was discussing the disastrous state of my relationship with my parents in the room. So I plastered an answering smile on my own features and walked into the kitchen.

10

I letus into Elliot’s parents’ house, a canvas tote bag of groceries over one shoulder, Taavi nervously following behind me with two more.

“El?” I called out as I kicked off my shoes in the foyer on the little shoe rug. “We’re here.”

I almost freaked out when it took him several seconds to come around the corner. He looked tired, dark bruises under his eyes, his now-too-short-for-a-ponytail hair pulled back behind a navy blue bandana.

“Hey. Hi, Taavi.”

“Hi, Elliot.”

He didn’t ask how Elliot was. That struck me as odd, given how considerate Taavi always is, until I realized that not askingwasbeing considerate. Elliot wasn’t okay, and nobody needed to ask him to know that.

Taavi and I followed as Elliot shuffled down the hallway past the stairs to the basement and through the doorway that led to the kitchen. Taavi immediately set his bags on the counter and started unpacking. “Enchiladas for lunch or dinner?” Taavi asked him.

Elliot blinked. “Oh. Um. Whichever.”

Taavi studied him for a minute, mismatched eyes narrowed, then nodded once. “Dinner it is,” he replied lightly, moving to put the cool things like sour cream and cheese in the fridge. He’d insisted on getting both chicken and a chuck roast, as well as a mountain of beans and more cheese than I was expecting. And several aluminum pans.

Elliot picked up one of those. “I have pans,” he said softly.

“Four of them?” Taavi asked.

“Four?”

“Four.”

“No?”

Taavi offered him a smile. “Didn’t think so.”

Elliot frowned. “I don’t think we can eat this much,” he pointed out.

“Enchiladas freeze really well,” came the reply.

“I—Okay.” Elliot looked a little like he’d just gotten steamrolled.

“Val, can I get you to help?”

“Uh, sure. With what?” I had no idea what was happening, and I felt like I was missing something important.

Taavi looked up at me. “Do you know how to make choux pastry?”

I blinked. “Yes.” I can bake pretty much anything. Choux included.

“Could you, please?” He shoved some flour and butter in my direction.

“Uh. Okay.” I went to fill a saucepan with water. “How much?”

“Three or four cups of water should do it.”

I had no idea what the fuck was going on, and, from his very confused expression, neither did Elliot. Taavi, on the other hand, clearly had a plan. I had no idea what the fuck it was, but he’d asked me for choux pastry, so he was going to get choux pastry.