Page 41 of The One Who Changed Everything

"…and then Kayla said that she wasn't going to speak to Jess anymore, but by lunchtime, they were sharing chips like nothing happened."

"Ah, the politics of seventh grade," I mused, parking the car and killing the engine.

Sophia giggled, gathering her backpack as I stepped out of the car.

"Thanks for picking me up, Evan," she said, slinging an arm around my waist as we walked toward the apartment.

I rested my hand on her shoulder, giving it a small squeeze as we reached the door. "Anytime, kiddo."

She fished her key out of her backpack and worked it into the lock with the confidence of someone who’d done it a hundred times before. As the door swung open, she flicked on the lights and tossed her backpack onto the couch in one fluid motion.

"Are you staying for a bit?" she asked casually, kicking off her shoes and heading toward the kitchen.

I hesitated. I hadn’t planned on it. But something about the way she asked made it impossible to just turn around and leave.

"You good here by yourself?" I asked instead, eyeing the empty apartment.

Sophia rolled her eyes as if I’d just asked if she still believed in Santa. "Mom lets me stay alone for a couple hours sometimes. It’s not a big deal."

That didn’t sit right with me. Sure, she was responsible, but she was still a kid. A kid who was alone in an apartment complex where I didn’t know all the neighbors or what kind of people lurked around.

I ran a hand over my jaw, debating. "When's your mom getting home?"

She shrugged, already pulling open the fridge and grabbing a juice box. "I dunno. She just said she’d be late."

Late. That could mean an hour. It could mean three.

I exhaled, leaning against the counter. "Tell you what, I’ll stick around until she gets back."

Sophia’s face lit up like I’d just offered her front-row seats to a Taylor Swift concert. "Really? Awesome!"

I checked the time on my phone. Nearly five. Samantha hadn’t given me an exact ETA, but I figured she’d be home soon. And as much as Sophia seemed happy lounging on the couch, my firefighter instincts told me she probably needed more than a juice box for dinner.

I pushed off from the counter, stretching my arms. "Well, how about we get dinner started? That way, when she gets home, dinner will be waiting for her."

Sophia grinned. "You cook?"

I smirked. "I can handle the basics. Let’s see what we’ve got."

We headed into the kitchen, and I opened the fridge, scanning the shelves. Some ground beef already thawed was a good start. My eyes drifted to the pantry—taco shells. Perfect.

"Tacos it is," I announced, pulling out the ingredients and setting them on the counter.

"Yes!" Sophia fist-pumped. "Mom makes tacos all the time. But she always says it's more fun when we cook together."

Something about that made my chest tighten, like I was stepping into a space I had no real claim to. But Sophia was already grabbing a pan, her enthusiasm contagious, and I couldn't bring myself to take a step back.

"Alright, chef," I said, ruffling her hair. "You handle the toppings, and I'll cook the meat. Deal?"

"Deal," she said, pulling out a cutting board.

As I browned the beef, Sophia chopped the lettuce with a little too much confidence for my liking, her tongue poking out in concentration. I stayed close, ready to step in if necessary, but she managed just fine.

"Mom’s gonna be so surprised," she said, grinning.

I glanced at her, the warmth in her eyes making something settle deep in my chest.

"Yeah," I murmured. "I think she will be." I wasn’t sure Sam would think it was a good surprise though.

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