Page 136 of Rebel Hawke

She taps the side of it with a fingernail. “I know it doesn’t have the most appetizing name—”

“No”—I shake my head, staring down into it and tryingnotto think about the taste of penicillin from when I had to drink that awful pink stuff when I had strep as a child—“it doesn’t.”

“Well, let me try to put you at ease. It’s just chicken stock, tiny star pasta, celery, onion, and carrots. Pretty basic. But Nana swears it’s a cure-all for anything that might ail you—including morning sickness.”

My mouth waters. “Oh, that sounds good, actually.”

“Try it.” She smacks her palm on the granite. “I swear. It was just about the only thing I ate my first trimester, and the twins turned out all right.”

I smirk at her. “At least one of them did.”

She cackles, her head tipping back and her dark hair falling around her. “Which one?”

Everyone thinks Atlas is so much like Gabe, with his blond hair, heavy muscles, and badass attitude. But I see so much of Skye in him at times. Especially in the way he cares for me.

Like she’s doing now.

“You’re their mother, Skye. You would know better than I do.”

She leans her elbows on the counter and smiles at me as I take my first spoonful and bring it to my mouth. I pause for a moment, both to blow on it and ensure I don’t burn myself and because I’m not entirely sure I trust my stomach to take it. But Skye just offers me a reassuring smile and a nod.

The moment the hot soup hits my tongue, I release a little groan of appreciation.

Simple but delicious flavors that seem to warm my soul from the inside out.

My stomach doesn’t immediately revolt as I swallow the first bite, then another. “This is really good.”

“And easy.” She turns back to the stovetop and places a lid on the pot. “I don’t spend a whole lot of time in the kitchen other than occasionally baking cookies. But this”—she twists back and motions to it—“I can manage.”

I take a couple more spoonfuls, not wanting to risk eating too quickly and having to pay the price.

Almost immediately, my body responds to the food. The shakiness and constant dizziness seem to melt away, and the utter exhaustion I’ve felt for weeks lifts—little by little with each bite that fills my stomach.

Skye watches me, clearly wanting to say something that she isn’t, as I slowly eat, but the longer she looks at me, the more I realize we’re worried about the same thing.

I push around a chunk of carrot in my bowl, then glance at the clock on the microwave. Mid-afternoon. He’s been gone for over eight hours. “Have you talked to Atlas today?”

It isn’t like him not to call or at least text to check in on me every hour or so, and I haven’t heard from him for several. Which means he’s likely lost himself in training—or something worse.

She shakes her head. “No, but Astrid and Isaac went to the gym…”

Oh, thank God.

Skye doesn’t need to tell me why they went.

Everyone has seen how he has deteriorated since Gramps’ death, and each of us worries endlessly about him. He just won’t let anyone in, not even me. The pain he’s suffering could make him spiral somewhere very dark and at the worst possible time. Knowing they were there with him, at least at some point today, does alleviate some of the unease for me.

I swirl the soup with my spoon and stare down at the tiny little star-shaped pasta in it, then glance up at her. “Do you think he’s okay?”

She offers a sad smile. “Areyouokay?”

Her simple question makes the dam break again, and tears fall before I can stop them. A deluge that leaves wet streaks down my cheeks and drops all over the counter around my lunch.

I shake my head, trying to fight a sob that finally slips out. “No.”

She rounds the counter quickly and wraps an arm around my shoulders, settling onto the stool next to me. “I know, sweetheart. It isn’t easy to lose somebody you love that much.”

The surety of her voice comes from someone who knows what they’re talking about.

---