Page 135 of Reckless Love

“I’m sure he didn’t mean it.” I let out a noise of frustration at how stubborn she can be. Maybe that’s the quality she and Stephen share. “He’s the reason you’re not in jail. He pulled every string he had to make sure you didn’t get hauled in as an accessory to attempted murder.”

“He found a way to make sure I still felt punished, though, didn’t he?”

“Seriously, come work for me.”

“You think my brother would be okay with that? Are you going to keep that from him?”

I can’t. We’re both really firm on our honesty, always policy. “He’d get over it,” I say.

“I’m not causing you two more problems. I’m healthy. I’m just poor. Something will come up. Whatever ‘most wanted’ poster Raul sent out about me will fade.”

I dig around in my purse, and knowing she won’t take the cash I have on me, I stuff what I have into the grocery bag on the ground.

“Ava,” she says, a note of warning.

“I don’t care. I’m not sitting by and watching Stephen’s little sister starve. Burn it to heat your car for all I care.” I huff out a breath. “I’ll figure out a way to help you that won’t get me in trouble with Stephen.”

“I can take care of myself,” she says. “It’s honestly way easier than trying to take care of everyone else.”

“Until you’re back on your feet, I’ll be here every week with groceries. If you’re not here, I’ll leave them with whoever is in the office.”

“You don’t need to do that.”

“I know, but I am.” I fluff my hair and then cross my arms. “He’ll get over it eventually. You know that, right? He loves you, and when Stephen loves, he loves hard. It’s just the trust thing. Working for the police for so long, he’s got a real thing about trust. Being untrustworthy is the cardinal sin. We all make mistakes, and you shouldn’t pay for yours forever.”

“You should go home,” Vanessa says.

“I’ll be back next week,” I say, stomping toward my car. The stubborn gene is my least favorite, and I’m afraid I also have it in spades. There’s no way I’m going to let Vanessa live in her car any longer than she has to.

When I get home, I grab the two bags on the passenger seat and head into the house. The sounds of Landon and Stephen cooking in the kitchen greet me as soon as I open the door.

“What are we having?” I ask as I wander into the living room and then the kitchen.

“Chicken parm,” Landon says over his shoulder. The apron Stephen got him is secured around his waist, and my heart constricts with how much I love coming into these moments between them.

“Yes, Chef,” I say, and I give him a mock salute.

He laughs and goes back to stirring the pasta from the stool Stephen’s set up for him.

“What have you got there?” Stephen asks, leaving the stove to kiss me on the temple and nod at my packages before returning to the chicken.

“An after-dinner surprise,” I say.

“Dad said we could play cribbage after dinner. I’m learning it so I can play with Grandma and Grandpa next time we visit them.”

I catch Stephen’s gaze over Landon’s head, and my soft smile matches his. From that first night, Landon has moved seamlessly into calling Stephen Dad and Stephen’s parents his grandparents, much to the delight of everyone. Stephen’s posture always changes slightly—straightening—as though the reminder sends him into secret superhero mode, ready to respond to any hint of danger.

“You good?” I ask, running my hand along his shoulders and down his back as the two of them keep cooking.

“Great,” he says, leaning over to kiss me again.

Instead of being weirded out, Landon grins. “You kiss her a lot.”

“I love her a lot,” Stephen says without missing a beat. Then he grabs Landon’s head and plants a kiss on the top of it. “There, I love you a lot too.”

Landon giggles and then carefully scoops out one noodle of pasta. Then he throws it at the wall, where it sticks. “Pasta’s ready.”

I let out a startled laugh. “Tell me you did not teach him that.”