Page 7 of Sugared

Leland checked the mackerel, but sure enough, it was beautifully filleted. “You’re sure?” he asked, teasing a little.

Ean took him seriously and looked nervous. “I’m sure. I’m not lying, I promise.”

Leland’s heart melted for the young man. “I believe you,” he said softly. He reached out and rested his hand on the back of Ean’s for a moment.

Both of them breathed in slightly, like the touch was electric. Their eyes met, and Leland had to pull away before he did something silly. Flirting shouldn’t happen over fish scales.

“Great,” he said, turning to the room at large. “Once you’ve filleted your fish, grab a pan and take it to the stove and we’ll sear it.”

The class shuffled along, following instructions well, but Ean raced to take his fish to the hob like cooking was a treat and not a chore.

Leland talked his class through pan-searing the fish, then set everyone up with the ingredients and recipe for pesto that they would use as a sauce for the meal. His focus wasn’t completely on the lesson anymore, though.

The more he watched Ean, the more things didn’t add up in his head. Ean had confessed to sleeping rough and staying with friends, but he hadn’t said anything about getting a place of his own. He hadn’t mentioned a single thing about a job. Surely, at his age, he had to have some sort of employment. Barring that, he must have been eligible for a public assistance program. Young, bright men from good families didn’t just end up homeless for no reason…did they?

Leland made a mental note to sit Ean down after class and talk about it. Every fiber of his being wanted to help the young man. Every fiber of his being also rebelled at the idea of sending Ean on his way again. He wanted to keep Ean right where he was, safe in his sight, instead of patting him on the head and sending him on his way.

Another piece of the puzzle started to fall into place as the majority of the class moved on to whisking up their pesto while Ean just stood at his workstation, staring at the recipe.

“Is something wrong?” Leland asked, his need to help Ean pulling at him. “Are my instructions not clear?”

Ean glanced mournfully up at him. His eyes were glassy and red-rimmed again, which was like a punch in the gut for Leland.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Leland asked quietly, leaning toward Ean and using his body to shield him from the prying eyes of the rest of the class.

Ean swallowed, darted a shamefaced glance around, then lowered his head. “I can’t read,” he whispered.

More pieces fell into place.

“I mean, Icanread,” Ean immediately corrected himself, looking up at Leland again. “A little. Sometimes.”

“Are you dyslexic?” Leland ventured a guess.

Ean nodded and lowered his head again. “Badly,” he whispered.

Yep, things were definitely making sense. Stress made things like dyslexia worse. Ean had been under more stress than Leland could even imagine for months now. Chances were he’d had trouble finding or keeping a job and definitely with filling out forms if stress was robbing him of his ability to read. And without family to help, it would have made things even harder.

Leland bristled with frustration. A lot of people had let Ean down in a lot of ways, but he definitely wasn’t going to be one of them.

“It’s okay,” he said, touching Ean’s hand again in reassurance, even though it nudged things toward a place they shouldn’t be going in a kitchen classroom. “I’ll read the recipe out to you and you just follow what I say.”

Things went well from there. Ean truly was a natural in the kitchen. Leland’s mind immediately filled with ideas for ways to help him get a job in a kitchen somewhere and to help him take the first steps to landing on his feet. He would deal with his distaste at the idea of sending the man out alone in the world, specifically away from him, later.

The class didn’t seem to mind that he gave more of his attention to Ean than to them. In fact, several of the others helped Ean wherever they could as well. More than a few of them grinned away at the two of them as they interacted, as if they were reading more into things than was there.

Then again, would Leland really mind if something was there between him and Ean?

“You did great today,” he told Ean after the class ended and it was just the two of them cleaning up. “You’re an amazing cook.”

The class had all eaten their lesson for supper around the table at the end of the room. Leland had had a taste of Ean’s dish and had been impressed that it tasted as good as it looked.

“I like food,” Ean said, blushing sweetly as he washed dishes in the big sink. “I’ve sort of been obsessed with food lately, since I haven’t had much to?—”

He stopped himself from finishing that sad statement, but it still broke Leland’s heart.

“It’s alright,” Leland said, bringing some of the pans from the hob to soak in the sink.

He started out maintaining a professional distance from Ean, but once he was standing by the man’s side, he couldn’t stop himself from drawing Ean into his arms.

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