Page 100 of Dare To Fall

I step forward and put myself in front of him. “We need flour, sugar, baking soda, an egg, butter, milk, and vegetable oil.”

He nods unsteadily and crosses the kitchen. His hands are trembling as he reaches for the refrigerator door. I catch him glancing at the book over his shoulder, his eyes haunted.

I open the drawer and rummage around inside it. When I find a notepad and a pen, I take them out, and slide the drawer closed, leaving the book inside.

His shoulders relax a little, and he sets the ingredients out on the counter, one at a time. I find all the other items we need to make pancakes, then scribble the instructions down and place the piece of paper in front of him.

Eli glances at it for a moment. “Eggs.”

“One egg. Maybe you should measure out the flour first.” I hand him an empty cup. “That can get a bit messy. You’ll need a cup and a half. Then we’ll add three and a half teaspoons of baking powder.”

His attention shifts to the cup, but he doesn’t take it.

I frown. “Come on, Eli. It’s not going to bite you. Just think of the possibilities if you can learn to cook at least one thing for yourself, without any help.”

Taking it from me, he places it on the counter but doesn’t reach for the bag of flour.

“Eli?”

He blinks, drawing in a sharp breath. “Yeah?”

I touch his shoulder gently. “Are you okay?”

When he hesitates, I worry my lip with my teeth. “Look, you don’t have to make me the pancakes. Not if they bring back memories you don’t want to face. I … I can’t imagine what it’s like to lose a parent the way you did.”

He closes his eyes, blowing out a breath. “My mom would cook for us whenever we were here.” His lips quirk up. “She called me her little helper.”

“That must have been nice.”

“It was.” He laughs, but there’s no humor in the sound. “Actually, it annoyed the fuck out of me.”

My hand wanders down his back, stroking over his scars. “Maybe one day in the future, you’ll be able to open the recipe book and cook something she used to make you. Relive the happy memories you have instead of living in the bad ones.”

He swallows. “Yeah. One day.”

I drop my hand and rest my hip against the counter. “So, pancakes?”

Eli turns his head, his gaze meeting mine. “I can’t.”

“It’s okay. I understand.”

“No, you don’t.”

I smile faintly. “Your mom—”

“It’s not that.” He huffs out a breath. “I can’t weigh the flour.”

I laugh. “You just measure it in the cup. It’s easy.”

“For you, maybe.”

“For anyone.”

Eli’s lips thin and he looks almost … embarrassed. “Ari, I …” He scrubs a hand down his face. “I can’t do it. I have dyscalculia.”

Chapter 67

Eli

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