Page 30 of Secrets and S'mores
“She’s trying. She’s just reacting to how we are treating her. She’s been really kind to our sister, to Mom. She’s opening up to me.”
Cedar gives me a long, critical stare. I raise my chin and narrow my eyes, daring him to say something stupid. It’s been years since we actually fought and I’m itching to hit something.
“You’re attracted to her. It’s clouding your judgment.”
The urge to smack him overwhelms me, but I know it’s logic that will work with my brother. Slowly, I recount what’s happened the last day. “The kind girl who baked with our mother this morning and then helped me with chores, that’s the real her, and if everyone weren’t so fucking judgy toward her, that’s who she’d be all the time.”
“I’m not sure about that.”
He’s impossible.
“Cedar, I swear, if you don’t back me up on this,” I leave the threat hanging. We both know I’d never actually hurt him, but I don’t have a better way to express how important this is to me.
His arms cross and his brows furrow. “Alright. I’ll do my best to be nicer.”
It’s not much, but Cedar always follows through on his promises. If he gives her a chance, he’ll see what I see.
The shower noise from Briar’s room cuts off.
“Thanks, man,” I say to my twin.
“This is really important to you,” he observes.
“Yeah.”
Ember wanders in, wet hair against her neck and fresh clothes on her body. She winces as she slowly lifts the kitchen towel, and then smiles to find the brioche fully risen and ready to bake.
“What temperature?” she mutters, looking for the recipe card.
“Three-hundred and fifty, for forty minutes,” Cedar says without looking up.
Ember swivels and blinks at him. “Thanks,” she says hesitantly.
The oven beeps as she sets the bake temperature. While it preheats, she sits beside me.
Cedar crunches on a piece of celery. “Do you want some veggies?” he asks.
“Um, thanks,” she says, accepting a carrot stick from him.
“Our mom makes the ranch too,” I say, grabbing a celery stick for myself.
Crunching and chewing are the only sounds for a painfully awkward two minutes. I stare at Cedar, willing him to say something. Finally, he does.
“So, did you like the chickens and goats?” he asks.
Ember smiles weakly. “Yeah, they’re cute.”
“They’re great for fresh eggs and milk,” Cedar says, clearly unsure of how to hold a conversation with a girl.
“She met Picada,” I say, proud of my favorite chicken who answers to her name.
“She was sweet,” Ember agrees.
“I saw what you did with the apple slices,” Cedar says, his mouth curving into a smile. “Pretty funny.”
“Oh,” Ember says, her cheeks tingeing pink again. I’m sure we are both having the same thought - was that all he saw? When did he go back to his garden?
We’re saved by the oven chiming. Ember shoots up, peeking into the oven before she slides the brioche in. I can’t help biting my lip as she bends at the waist to center the loaf pan on the oven rack.
