Page 16 of The Knotty Clause

“What a mess!” she exclaimed, but he could hear the laughter in her voice.

His feet carried him one step closer to the doorway before he caught himself. What was he doing? He’d built these walls around himself for a reason. The contract had been meant to maintain those boundaries, to keep them at arm’s length. Yet here he was, hovering outside his own kitchen like a lost cub, drawn to their warmth like a moth to flame.

He ran a hand through his mane, growling softly at his own weakness. The rules he’d set seemed to crumble more each day. Every smile from Gemma, every eager question from Liam, chipped away at the careful isolation he’d constructed.

“I smell something burning,” Liam announced.

“Oh no, the first batch!”

The scent of scorched food reached his sensitive nose, and his protective instincts immediately flared. He burst into the kitchen, ready to confront the danger, but found the room intact. A faint haze of smoke hovered in the air, but the only thing that seemed damaged was a tray of blackened pastries that sat smoking on the counter. Flour dusted almost every surface, including Gemma’s hair and Liam’s clothes.

His heart clenched as she looked up and smiled at him—the warm smile that made his chest ache. Her sleeves were rolled up, revealing the delicate curve of her forearms as she kneaded a fresh batch of dough. Liam bounced on his toes beside her, sneaking pinches of dough. The boy also gave him a wide grin as soon as he spotted him.

“Yede! Look what we’re making!”

His walls crumbled a little more. He took another step forward, drawn by their joy, their easy acceptance of his presence. The kitchen felt warmer, brighter somehow, filled with life in a way his home hadn’t been in years.

“Need some help?” he asked gruffly.

“Yes!” Liam grabbed his hand, tugging him towards the table. “Mama’s teaching me to make sweet rolls, but I made a mess.”

“We both did,” she laughed, gesturing at the disaster around them. “I decided I might as well wait until we were through before cleaning up.”

Her eyes sparkled, and he found himself moving closer, powerless to resist the pull of their shared happiness. He cleared his throat.

“I could… assist. If you want.”

“We’re making treats for Longest Night,” she explained, pushing a bowl toward him. “Though I admit, my first attempt ended up more crispy than I planned.”

The scent of burnt sugar hung in the air, but beneath it lay hints of familiar spices that triggered memories he’d buried deep. His mother had used them in the winter treats she’d bake for the Festival of Stars.

Liam pressed dough into his hands.

“Like this, see? Mama says you have to fold it just right.”

He carefully worked the delicate dough, just as he had as a child.

“You’ve done this before,” she said, watching him.

“On my world, we celebrate midwinter with sweet breads shaped like stars.” The words slipped out before he could stop them. “My mother would spend days preparing.”

“Ours are usually round but I like the idea of shaping them like stars. Can you show us how?”

He found himself demonstrating the intricate folds. She worked beside him, her arm occasionally brushing his, while Liam attempted increasingly creative variations on the traditional design.

Their laughter filled the kitchen—Liam’s bright giggles, her soft laugh—and the warmth that spread through his chest had nothing to do with the heat from the oven.

The scent of baking sweets filled the kitchen and for the first time in years, the memories of home brought more comfort than pain.

“May I talk to you for a moment?” she asked quietly, leading him away until they were out of earshot of Liam, carefully watching the pastries through the oven window.

“I know this wasn’t part of our agreement, but I’d like to make this holiday special for Liam. After everything at the mine…” She glanced at her son. “He deserves some joy.”

His chest tightened at the sight of the boy, so small and so determined.

“It’s a good idea,” he admitted. “There should be a celebration.”

“Thank you.” She gave him that bright smile again, and his heart ached with the longing to have her smile at him that way all the time. “If you don’t object, I’d like to find a few things to make it special.”

---