Page 140 of Cook

“Okay, Maddie. I’m listening.” She latched her hands on my upper arm, looking me in the eye. The same light brown with a hint of maple as mine.

“Let’s sit. Tell me,” Mel continued. “I promise I’m listening.”

I sat on the bed, digging my nails into my palms.

“Cook’s in danger.”

Mel exhaled. “Anything else?”

I pinched my lips and shook my head.

“He’s okay, Maddie. Angel had to go to Bou’s shop because Cook texted everyone to gather up there.”

Snapping my head over to look at her, I said, “Really?”

She gave me a sad smile and a nod. And the knots in my shoulders unfurled.

“So,” I started tentatively, “he’s fine? And on his way to Park Ridge?”

Her smile spread. “Probably arriving as we speak.”

Silence settled into my room, blanketing us.

Until Mel finally broke it: “How is it going... with Cook, Imean?”

“Great,” I said, but that didn’t begin to cover it. After she looked up Serenity, I doubted she wanted to know more about what we were doing there.

“He treats you well?”

I paused. “Are you concerned that he won’t?”

She swallowed. “I only want you to be okay, Maddie. And happy. I’ve spent so long—” She gulped again, her throat visibly bobbing up and down. “You’re my sister.”

As if I need to be reminded of how much she looked like me, only tanner and more toned.

I took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “He treats me better than anyone else. Better than you’ll ever know.”

“And what have you done for him?” she asked, turning on the bed to face me square on.

I rolled my eyes. “Quit judging my choices.”

“I have to be concerned, Maddie.”

“Because I’m your sister?”

“Yes! And because of what the club is,” said Mel quickly and through clenched teeth.

I punched both fists into the bed. “See, not listening.”

“I am, Maddie, but I don’t understand why Cook would take you there after...”

“Because.” The non-answer was all I would give her. He needed to learn. I needed things that he didn’t know how to give me. But that wasn’t something she needed to understand, and I just wanted her to stop talking. She just needed to give me the space to recover in my own way.

“You should’ve gone with Angel.” I looked over at one of the portraits I’d taken—a black and white photo of Cook replacing a broken window in the house. His perfect concentration showed in the determined set of his jaw as he finessed it into the frame. It had been hot, and he hadn’t been wearing a shirt, so the tats on his shoulders stood out. My fingers itched to touch them again.

Maddie.” Mel’s gentle voice cut through my fixation. “I want to be here.” Her voice cracked. “When you called me, crying and scared. You had run away from Serenity—”

“That wasn’t Cook’s fault,” I said, facing her again.

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