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“She’s not too far from here. I’ve been trying to see her as much as I can since I was gone for so long.”

“You two are close?”

“Very.” He smiles when he says it, looking up at me. “I told you she was a single mom, right?” I nod, and he continues. “My dad took off when she was diagnosed with ovarian cancer, so it was just my mom, Emerson, and me since I was ten.”

I open my mouth to say something, but he stops me. “And before you say ‘sorry’, don’t. He was a dick, and we were much better without him. And, my mom has been in remission for years.”

I roll my lips to hide my smile—Ava’s comment about his brutal honesty and no time for saying things he doesn’t mean rings truer and truer the more we talk.

“What about you?” he asks.

“What about me?” I counter—more than content to just listen to him talk.

“Are you close with your parents?” He eyes me carefully, like he already knows the answer but wants to hear what I’ll say.

“Not at all,” I say, taking a page out of his not beating around the bush book. “And before you say ‘sorry’, don’t.” Throwing his own words back at him earns me a smile, the one that curves to one side of his face. “My mom left my dad when I was five. He wasn’t a good guy.”

“She didn’t take you?”

I shake my head. The familiar crack in my chest at the thought of my own mother leaving me to fend for myself—something I could never imagine doing, even more so now with a daughter of my own.

The strength it takes to be a mom is unlike any other, but I’ve learned it’s not a strength that everyone has.

My mom didn’t.

The words left unsaid leave a lot of room for questions, but thankfully Jack doesn’t ask them. Instead, he asks, “Where is your dad now?”

“Don’t know, don’t care,” I say with a sigh.

“I haven’t seen him since I left for college at 18, and that’s when I met her dad.

” I nod at Evee as she plays with all the inserts of one of her sensory books.

Opting to be the one to change the subject this time, I ask, “Are you hungry? I brought burgers from VegOut.”

Jack lifts a brow. “The vegan place?”

I nod. “I hope that’s okay. I don’t know if you heard when I said I was vegan on Tuesday, and I know plant-based burgers aren’t for everyone.

I also brought vegan cookie dough to bake tonight too.

Evee can eat either vegan or not—I don’t make her do it just because I do—I don’t exactly do it by choice—and I wasn’t sure if you had gotten cookie dough or not already.

” The words tumble out of me, and I barely take a breath before they keep pouring out.

“And I won’t be offended if you hate it, or the burgers.

I know some people think being vegan is stupid especially when you just eat food posing as other non-vegan food. ”

It isn’t until the words leave my lips that I realize a nerve was hit—Trevor’s words spewing from my mouth verbatim after hearing them so many times.

“I don’t mind,” Jack says when I finally stop talking—he doesn’t say anything about my rambling or even show he’s affected by it.

“I’ve never had plant-based burgers, but I’ve never met a burger I didn’t like.

” The words are so simple yet negating the insecurity coating my skin.

“And I didn’t buy cookie dough, but I have the ingredients to make them homemade.

I’m sure we can adjust the recipe to make them vegan. I’d love for you to teach me.”

“Okay,” I say, blowing out a breath before opening my mouth to apologize. The word “sorry” is on my lips, but I see Jack watching me, as if waiting for me to say it, so I close my mouth.

“Atta girl,” he praises with a smirk, pushing himself off the ground to stand up.

“My ex would always make comments about my diet.” I’m not quite sure why I say it, but the words are out in the open, so I might as well explain. “He thought eating vegan foods that were substitutes for non-vegan, like burgers, was stupid.”

“He sounds stupid,” Jack deadpans, and I chuckle, the noise escaping me before I realize that he wasn’t joking.

I exhale, not wanting to waste this perfectly good night thinking more about Trevor than I have to. “The food might need to be warmed up,” I say, pushing up to my knees.

“I got it. You stay with Evee,” he orders, but the words make me feel tingly, especially when accompanied with the way his gaze darkens as he looks down at where I’m basically kneeling in front of him.

“It’s the least I can do after you bought dinner, which will not be happening again, I might add. ”

“Wow, firefighter. With how confident you are in those short shorts, I didn’t take you for a man who struggles with toxic masculinity. Friends buy each other dinner.” I don’t know where the confidence to argue comes from, but I don’t regret the words.

Well, maybe one word.

Jack raises a brow, intrigued. He bends down to my level. “True. My mom didn’t raise me to be a man who thinks a woman can’t buy a man dinner,” he explains, picking up on my thoughts, and I notice how he doesn’t comment on my mention of us being friends.

I open my mouth to argue more, but he holds up a finger and the words get caught in my throat.

“So,” he starts, “even though we both know you’re perfectly capable of buying me dinner, tonight was the first and last time because my mother did raise me to be the kind of man who takes care of women he cares about.”

I cock my head, ignoring the fluttering in my stomach. “I don’t need you to take care of me.”

He cocks his head, copying me. “I know, but I want to.”

And is it wrong that I really, really want him to?