Page 46 of Chasing Sunrise

Definitely.

“Your brother did you a favor.”

He didn’t bother responding. His parents never took sides, and he respected their middle ground. Plus, he somewhat felt the same way. He just wished the world hadn’t witnessed the proposal. But that wasn’t Ethan’s fault.

Mom went to the freezer, pulled out a box, and put it on the table. Then she grabbed a couple of paper plates, forks, and a knife. She opened the box and dragged out a frozen chocolate pie. She always kept two frozen pies in the freezer—one chocolate and one lemon—made of pudding and whipped topping over a graham cracker crust.

Without waiting for it to thaw, she sliced off a large piece, placed it on a plate, and slid it to him.

He took a bite and closed his eyes. Now, he was home.

“You and Amanda have fun camping?”

“She came up Saturday morning and left Sunday morning.”

His mother cut herself a piece. “You charmer.”

He laughed. “She told me she’d only stay twenty-four hours. I can’t believe she’d never been camping. Or fishing.”

“To be honest, I can’t see Amanda roughing it. She always looks too perfect.”

He inwardly grinned, thinking of how messy she’d gotten on Saturday.

“She’s a darling girl. It’s just—”

When his mother didn’t continue, he prompted her by asking, “What?”

“I detect sadness in her.”

“She lost her parents when she was a teenager. They were killed in a car crash by a drunk driver.”

“Poor child.”

~

Tissue in hand andover her nose, Amanda rolled out of bed. She’d ignored the first five knocks, but whoever it was wasn’t giving up. She peeked out the peephole. Kasey stood on her welcome mat, his jacket hood over his head to divert the rain and grocery bags hanging from his hands.

Dread flared through her. She hated for anyone to see her right now. She’d put on makeup to go to the doctor, and once she arrived home took it off then dragged herself to bed.

Her dread fled when she remembered he’d seen her at her worst at the lake. She unlocked and opened the door. “Hi.”

“What’d the doctor say?” he asked.

“I have an upper respiratory infection.”

His shoulders flinched.

“It’s fine. She gave me antibiotics.”

He walked inside and wiped his feet on the rug. “Go back to bed. I’ll cook a soup.”

“I’m not hungry.” She shut the door.

“You will be in an hour or two. It’ll take me that long to make it. Plus, you need food in your stomach if you’re on antibiotics. When’s your next dose?”

“In a couple of hours. You don’t have to do this.”

“Where’s the kitchen,” he asked, as if he wouldn’t be able to find it on his own. She lived in a tiny one-story with two bedrooms and one bath.

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