Two Years Prior
Celia swiped the sweat from her forehead with her forearm, careful not to get soap on her face. The pot refused to come clean, the food charred onto the bottom. Frustration bubbled up as she scrubbed, her shoulders aching and fresh sweat dripping down her temple.
“What did that pot do to you?”
She twisted to see Landon leaning against one of the kitchen islands, a small smirk playing on his lips.
“I saved you a piece of the cherry pie,” she said, nodding toward the plate on the far side of the counter.
He grinned. “My favorite.”
She returned to scrubbing the pot as he crossed the kitchen in that easy, graceful way of his and grabbed the dessert. They didn’t speak for a few minutes while he ate, but she could feel his eyes on her.
“How’s your mom doing?” he asked even
