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Yulia went to Annie’s so that Hollis could shower before baking began.

Apparently he smelled “disgusting” and would have to text when he’d fixed it so that they could come over.

Hollis slung his bag into their bedroom and headed for the bathroom.

“Can Yulia and Annie stay over?” he yelled.

“You cooking?” his ma yelled back through her bedroom door.

“Yeah, I’ll handle it.”

Walt reflexively turned off the light to start getting undressed.

We can probably stop doing that at this point.

Walt shrugged and threw their shirt on the ground.

You want it to stop, you turn it back on.

Hollis hummed and left the light. The day had been enough.

She really just forgives stuff when you feed her?

Hollis shook their head.

No, Yulia is from the richest family in the whole town. When she asks for bread it’s because she knows that’s what I can give. She doesn’t ask for anything I can’t give her if I work hard enough. It’s not the food, it’s the labor. She wants to know that I was thinking about her when I made her something. That I tried my best to make it good. That I remember her favorite flavors and thought about what she likes.

The Christmas cookies aren’t just... it’s not about the cookies. It’s about being with me as we make them. Watching me do something she’s seen me do before while she feels insecure about who we are. The winter fair is because she knows I would never say no to her. I’d carry her bags from here to Chicago if she needed me to. It’s reassurance that I’m the same person, that me being “we” hasn’t changed the things that matter.

Walt was quiet as he scrubbed a loofah over their shoulder.

You give a lot of speeches.

I don’t like being misunderstood.