Page 122 of Lavender Lake
“Goes better with milk. Hang on.”
She walked to the mini fridge of drinks and pulled out a plastic bottle of milk. She unscrewed the lid and handed it to me. “On the house.”
“Thank you. God, you’re nice.” I took the milk from her and drank half of it in one go. “Yeah, you’re right. That was perfect.”
“So, I’m guessing this wasn’t a planned thing?”
I shook my head.
“Some of the best things in life aren’t planned,” she murmured. “You have family?”
I nodded.
“Are they supportive?”
I nodded again.
“The father . . .”
I winced and shrugged.
How the hell is Cas going to take this news?
I’d been warned that he wasn’t a family man. Did I really expect him to stick around?
I finished off the cookie and rubbed the crumbs on my sweats. “Thank you for this. It was—I don’t even know your name.”
She looked down at her vest. “Oh, shoot. I forgot my name tag.” She reached over to the register and ran her hand underneath the drawer. “There it is!”
She held up her name tag and pinned it to her vest. “I’m Kathleen.”
“Kathleen,” I whispered, my eyes filling with tears again. “It was really nice to meet you.”
“The pleasure was all mine, sweetie. The pleasure was all mine.”
“You’re avoiding me,” Cas said three days later.
“What? No,” I lied as I unlatched the chicken coop gate. “I’ve been with my dad. Talking to him. Keeping his spirits up, you know?”
“Your dad falls asleep after like, ten minutes of conversation,” he said. “You’re telling me you sit by his bedside for hours while he sleeps?”
I frowned. “How do you know he falls asleep that fast?”
“Because it happened the other day when I spoke to him.”
“Why did you speak to him?” I demanded.
“I wanted to introduce myself,” he said. “And stop trying to change the subject.”
“Is that why you’re cornering me at five a.m. at the chicken coop?” I asked.
“You’re not an early riser by nature,” Cas said. “So why are you at the chicken coop this early?”
“I’m pitching in.” I found a brown egg and put it in the basket.
“You’re quiet at family dinners, and then you escape up to your room. You don’t invite me to your bed. You’re avoiding me because of what I said.”
I frowned. “What did you say?”
