Page 14 of Rage's Heart

Without another word, we shuffled into the dining room, but I could still feel Jack’s glare burning into me.

Great. He wasn’t going to let it go.

The tension from dinner still lingered, even after the plates had been cleared. Jack had barely spoken to me once Mom put her foot down, but I’d caught him watching me from across the table more than once. That hard, disapproving stare practically branding the side of my face.

Whatever.

I didn’t have the energy to fight with him again right now.

Instead, I focused on Brooklyn, who sat on the counter beside the mixing bowl, kicking her feet while licking cookie dough off her fingers.

Emma stood next to the island, carefully leveling out a cup of flour like the little perfectionist she was. “This has to be exact,” she informed me, totally serious.

“Good thinking, kiddo,” I praised, watching as she dumped it into the mixing bowl. “We don’t want the cookies to end up like your daddy’s pancakes.”

Brooklyn snorted a giggle. “Yeah! Those were BAD.”

I grinned. “They sure were.”

“That was the worst breakfast ever,” Emma added solemnly.

Brooklyn nodded. “Worse than gross, squishy eggs.”

Emma wrinkled her nose. “Eggs are disgusting, no matter what.”

“Preach it, sista,” I said, tossing a pinch of flour at both of them.

Mom chuckled from where she stood at the counter, already rolling out the first batch of dough. “McKenzie Nicole, don’t start a flour war in my kitchen.”

Chelsea laughed from beside her. “Too late.”

I held up my hands, feigning innocence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Mom arched a knowing brow but said nothing, turning back to the dough.

“Alright, what’s next?” I asked, glancing at the recipe card.

Emma placed her hands on her hips, shifting straight into bossy mode. “Mix time!”

“Mix time!” Brooklyn echoed loudly, grabbing the wooden spoon before I could reach for it. She plunged it into the dough, arms flexing like she was getting ready to stir up something magical.

I braced myself and sure enough, a second later?—

Schlop!

A chunk of batter went flying up into the air then took a nose dive, landing in my hair.

I froze, my eyes going wide.

Emma gasped. “Brookie!”

Brooklyn clamped a hand over her mouth, her eyes matching my own. “Oops.”

Chelsea snorted and Mom sighed in that long-suffering I raised troublemakers’ way.

Slowly, I plucked the wad of dough from my hair, holding it up between two fingers.

Both girls stared at me, waiting for my reaction.

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