Page 53 of Little Sunshine

“Did you win?”

At Ash’s question voiced from close to my ear, I jolted and nearly dropped the heavy glass container. “What?”

“You were having a staring contest with your salad.” He took it from me, replacing it with a warm container before stepping away again. “Did you win?”

“I would’ve, but you interrupted.” I glanced down at the new food he’d given me. It smelled delicious, but I wasn’t sure I could even politely pick at it.

And not just because of the pit still occupying my belly.

“Meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and green beans,” he filled in unnecessarily.

I loathed meatloaf. My nan had made it often. She’d called it cheap comfort food. I assumed the emphasis was on the cheap part since hers could’ve easily been ground cardboard covered in brown water that tasted like it’d once spent time near some beef.

Essence of beef gravy.

Not wanting to be rude—or ruder than I’d already been—I took a small bite. Then a bigger bite. And another.

I may have had the dish countless times as a kid, but it’d never tasted like that. Savory and rich, with a sweet tomato glaze and seasoning. So much seasoning. When I tried the mashed potatoes, it was even better. Buttery and herby, with chunks of actual potato in it.

Nothing like the packets of powdered potatoes I got from the dollar store—and I thought those were pretty good to begin with.

“You like it.” It wasn’t a question, just another unnecessary statement. If I could’ve inhaled the whole thing without getting violently ill, I would’ve.

Still, I nodded.

“Vera was right.”

I stopped with my fork halfway to my mouth. “What?”

“She said you needed comfort food.”

I didn’t know who the all-knowing Vera was, and I wasn’t about to ask. It wasn’t my business.

Just like I wasn’t hers.

I slammed the dish down harder than I meant to. “You told someone what happened to me?”

“Just that you were in an accident.” He stepped closer. So close, my knees spread automatically out of his way, though he stopped before that point. “Not any of the details.”

Even if he wanted to share, there wasn’t much he could. I hadn’t told him or the doctor more than the bare minimum.

Less than that, actually.

That didn’t mean I wanted the mysterious Vera knowing anything about me. I didn’t want to picture him and some equally gorgeous woman talking about my misfortune. Looking down at me with pity as they discussed what to feed the poor, starving little girl.

“Little girl,” Ash said, unknowingly echoing my thoughts. The already annoying nickname cut like a knife.

I easily hid my reaction before letting a yawn free. “Sorry, I’m exhausted.” I slid off the counter, expecting him to back away. To give me space.

He didn’t.

So close.

Too close.

My body nearly touched his, and I could feel the heat radiating from it. If I wanted to meet his eyes, I would’ve had to crane my neck to do it.

I didn’t want to, though. I’d seen enough sympathy for the day.

---