Elliott
I headed into the kitchen, wanting to clear my head. The quiet sounds of chopping vegetables, the simmer of a pan—cooking had always been my escape, even when I was a kid. Emily was resting in the other room, and I figured she could use a good meal. After everything that happened, she deserved something normal. Something that didn't remind her of the nightmare she had just escaped.
I heard the soft shuffle of feet behind me and turned around to see her, dressed in my clothes. They were a little too big on her, but she looked comfortable, almost at peace for the first time since I'd found her. My heart clenched at the sight, a mix of emotions I wasn't used to feeling.
"Smells good," she said with a small smile, walking closer to the counter. "Where did you learn to cook like this?"
