I fill the kettle with warm water and turn the burner on high. The low whistle begins to sound as I’m chewing up my third cookie dough square. Setting the pack down, I turn off the burner and pour the water over the tea bag, filling the cup. The aroma seeps out from the top and hits me in the face.

I lean away, setting the kettle down. “Fuck. How do you drink this?”

“How do I drink what?”

I look over my shoulder to see Tessa standing on the other side of the small island attached to the kitchen counter. Her face is flushed, stripped of all makeup like I prefer. Her hair is pulled up out of her face into one of those messy knots she always does, and she’s wearing my T-shirt from the other day.

I set the cup down on the island in front of her, placing the bottle of honey from the cabinet next to it. “Here. I wasn’t sure how much you usually put in there. I didn’t want to mess it up.”

She steps forward with caution, rising a few inches on her toes to peer down into the mug. A strand of her hair falls into her face, and I make a fist to keep myself from guiding it back behind her ear. Her head stays turned down, then her lips part before her eyes slowly lift to mine. “You made me tea?”

I slide a spoon across the island. “Yeah. I know how much you like it.”

It takes her several seconds to blink, maybe a full minute, but when she does, she focuses back on her cup. “Thank you,” she says quietly, popping the lid off the honey and drizzling some into the mug. She looks up at me when she hears the cookie dough package opening with the force of my hand.

I freeze, leaning my back against the counter with my fingers ready to pull out another square. I don’t know what makes me say it. I never talk about this, even when it’s heavy on my mind. Maybe it’s the confession Tessa gave me earlier that has me needing to give her some part of me, but whatever it is, the words come out of my mouth before I can think to swallow them down.

“My mom used to buy these all the time when I was a kid. She never baked them. She just kept them in the fridge for a snack.” I look down at the package in my hand, turning it over to look at the cooking instructions. “I’ve never actually had baked chocolate chip cookies before.” After examining the information I’ve never bothered to look at, I glance up and meet Tessa’s wide-eyed stare.

She blinks several times, focuses on her mug, and then lifts her head again. “I want to ask you about her, but if you don’t want me to, what you’ve just said is okay.”

“You can ask me,” I quickly reply, the words rushing out of my mouth as if they can’t escape fast enough.

She nods, lifting her mug and blowing across the top. “How did she die?” Her eyes fall to a space between us immediately after her question.

I seal the top of the package and slip it back into the fridge. My hand flattens against the side of my face, sliding down roughly, as I take a minute before I respond.

“I’m sorry,” she says. She looks regretful as she sets her mug down.

I step closer to the counter separating us. “It’s all right. I told you, you could ask me. I’m just not used to talking about it.” My shoulders sag as I tuck my hands into my pockets, needing somewhere to put them. “She was driving into town to go to some store or something, and while she was at a red light, this guy came up to her window and asked for some money.” I look down, picturing how I’ve always imagined it in my head. “Once she rolled her window down, he pulled a gun on her and told her to get out of the car. I think she would’ve listened to him if he would’ve waited two fucking seconds, but he didn’t. When the cops pulled him over in the next county, he told them he’d shot her as soon as she’d looked at the gun.”

Arms wrap around my waist from behind, and her head presses against my back as she flattens herself against me. “How old were you?” she asks in a gentle voice.

“Fifteen.”

“Is that why you became a cop? Because of what happened to her?”

I stare down at her fingers as they grab the bottom of my shirt, curling around the material. “Yeah, I guess.”

She breathes against me, in then out. “I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine losing somebody like that. Were you really close with her?”

The second I feel her finger run along the skin of my stomach, I pull my hands out of my pockets and grab her wrists, gripping them with a warning. “Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?” she asks, but doesn’t resist my hold on her.

I take in two calming breaths while my reaction to her stirs wildly in my blood. “You know what. Don’t play with me, Tessa. I’m not here for that.”

“I’m not playing with you. I was just…” She sighs loudly before something thuds against my back. “I was just trying to comfort you. I wasn’t going to go any lower.”

I turn around, breaking her hold on me, and stare down into her eyes. She looks pained by my rejection, also slightly embarrassed, and I tilt her chin up with my finger when she tries to avoid me. “You don’t need to comfort me. I just want to be near you.”

“But your mom. That’s so sad, Luke. I don’t know how you do it. I just…” Her bottom lip begins to tremble seconds before she crashes against me, wrapping me into the strongest hug of my life. My back hits the hard edge of the counter and I wince through a groan. “Please let me just do this for a little while. I won’t go under your clothes. I promise.” She sniffs and wipes her face against my shirt. “I love that you got her name tattooed on you. I bet she would love it too.”