“The pharmacist or your little self-help book?” Ember teases.
“The pharmacist, but the book did actually say that sugar overload is bad post-episode,” I correct her. “So you can choose one chocolate bar to eat while I make us all a real meal, but that’s it.”
“I’m going to burn that thing,” she groans. “Ruining all my fun.”
“Finding you passed out and convulsing on the floor is no one’s idea of fun, Em. Protein, medication and rest. That’s all the fun you’re allowed today.”
“Harsh terms.” She pouts at me.
“And maybe some ice cream, if you’re good.”
“I’m always a good girl…sir.”
Fuck, if my kid wasn’t rootling around in our kitchen, I’d show her exactly what I think of that playful taunt. Maybe I can fuck her brain into functioning properly for once.
“What about the BOLO?” Ember winces as she sits up. “Is it live?”
“That’s all!” I call while walking to the kitchen.
“Fuck you, Hy.”
“Anytime, baby.”
“I’ll just call Warner if you don’t keep me updated!”
“Try it!” I shout back.
Locating Luke with his nose buried in our freezer, I yank him out then set the kid up chopping veggies to earn his dessert. None of us are particularly good cooks, but I can rustle up a decent enough meal. Fajitas are pretty hard to ruin.
We’re talking about school and his favourite classes when Ember pads into the kitchen on bare feet, still in pyjama shorts and an oversized tee. She sits at the breakfast bar and watches us work, seemingly content to listen.
“I don’t like peppers.” Luke scrunches up his little nose.
“Gotta eat your greens.” I chuff the back of his head. “Then you can have ice cream.”
“With a superhero movie?”
“Only if I get to pick which one,” Ember chimes in.
Bottom lip jutted out, Luke considers her for a moment. “Fine. But only because you’re sick.”
“Thanks, little man.”
He leans closer to whisper to me. “I told you girls have germs. I don’t want to get sick too.”
“That’s why you have to eat your veggies. Then you don’t need to worry about anyone’s germs, not just girls.”
Ember covers her mouth with her hand to conceal a laugh. I wink at her, loving the way her smile chases the fatigue from her eyes, even briefly. She hasn’t had enough reasons to laugh recently.
We work messily, systematically destroying Warner’s kitchen organisation by the time the chicken has finished sizzling. I study the disaster before declaring it his problem to fix. I’ll only clean it all wrong.
Ember smashes avocados with the back of a fork, whipping up some guacamole, while Luke moans the entire time about green slime. The way she ribs him like they’re old pals warms my heart as I dish up the food into sharing bowls.
“You hear from Tom today?” I ask her quietly.
Adding seasoning to the guac, she slowly mixes it in. “Yeah, Jamie’s with him. I explained what happened before Warner could rat me out. Couldn’t get him off the phone for forty-five minutes.”
“He’s worried about you.”
