Page 76 of False Start

“I’ll make it. I’ll make you whatever you want as long as you eat it.” She’s squatting at the edge of the couch now, her hand a cool touch over mine.

I laugh, knowing she can’t fulfill the challenge and finding a personal win in not being forced to eat. “Caldo de frango.”

Smirking like I’ve won, I watch her eyebrows scrunch in confusion. “What does that mean?”

“It’s Brazilian food. It’s what my grandma used to make for me when I was sick. It’s the only thing I can stomach.”

“What do I need?” She stands so fast, it makes my head hammer trying to keep up. Pulling her phone out of her back pocket, she looks at me, then waits.

“What?” I’m not following her.

“Nevermind,” she sighs, typing something on her phone and scrolling for a few seconds before she flips the screen to my face. “This?”

Damn.

But she’s not just gonna try to cook this random thing she probably doesn’t even have any ingredients for, and I’m certainly not in the condition to teach her or walk her through the steps. That would be insane. “Yes,” I confirm with hesitation in my voice.

“Okay.” She walks away, gaze fixed on her phone screen.

“What are you doing?” I turn my head back to see her standing in the kitchen, fridge door open as she rummages through what’s already there.

She doesn’t answer, typing something on her phone, and then she’s looking in another cabinet.

“Harvey,” I call for her attention, but she’s ignoring me, still rummaging through her pantry for things.

No. She’s not ignoring me; she has shifted all her focus to taking care of me.

“Cat,” I call out, my voice a little more stern as I break her trance.

“Yeah?” Her head whips my way.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“Ordering what I need to make this,” she says casually before returning to the task.

“You’re justgonna make it?” I toss it out mockingly, like it’s just so easy to decide to do something and thendo it.

Cat turns back my way, her eyes on me as she answers, “Yes.”

31

HARVEY

I’m on autopilot, doing everything I can to remember what helped my brother go through this in the past, every single time he’d decide he wasfinallygoing to quit before he’d ruin our lives again two weeks later. I’ve got a cart full of things online, not just for food but for later, when the worst of it happens. It’s too soon from her last hit, but I can tell she’s already miserable. I add some children’s electrolytes and nausea meds along with the ingredients for the recipe.

She’s pretending to be doing better than she actually is. She’s fidgeting, uncomfortable, and her red, watery eyes don’t help the situation. But she’s laying on the couch, head on my lap, while I look at sixteen different versions of this fucking recipe.

Nia thinks I won’t cook it because I’ve never cooked anything like it, but that’s never stopped me from doing something before. She’s no help in telling me anything except which part of Brazil her family is from, and with that as a starting point, I’m able to do a few deep dives andfind enough bloggers with English translations of the exact one I need.

It won’t be perfect, but I can try to do it justice.

When the doorbell rings, I’m grateful that there’s finally something to make me feel useful,somethingI can try to do. I tip the kid and don’t bother to make sure the order is all there. She shifts on the couch, sweat glistening over her forehead as she watches me unpack the bags.

“You’re really going to cook for me?” The realization that this isn’t some prank is finally setting in for her.

“Why wouldn’t I?” I don’t bother masking my amusement.

For the first time all day, there’s a real expression of emotion on her face, and hilariously enough, she’s dumbfounded. I’m already walking in her direction.