After being out of work for a week, I really believed I was ready to get back to the grind of the kitchen. I was thankful to see it was a steady night. The more I could keep focused on the task at hand, the better. School had been an absolute drag. Seven hours of sitting in classrooms, and I couldn't remember anything I'd been instructed on. I felt lost.

The crutches I'd been relying on were now placed in the kitchen's corner, beside the time clock. The stitches hadn't been removed yet, but the foot could now take on some slight weight-bearing activities. At some point tonight, I'd have to give in and use the crutches, but for now, I was doing okay. It was easy to forget the discomfort in the heel's bottom when my heart ached this much. I was determined to be okay, though. If I let myself hit rock bottom again, I probably wouldn't have my best friend to rely on this time. There was no way I could put my heartache on Hallie again.

Fake it 'til you make it, I reminded myself as I approached the sink to wash my hands.

There were six people in the room, and it felt completely vacant without Ollie here to give me a hard time. Without his presence, it felt like a completely different space. Three generations of Mulligans cooked from this very spot. Ollie cooking from anywhere else was just wrong. The pictures hanging above the time clock of his dad holding him up to the stove to stir a pot proved that.

"How are you doing, chef?" Mick's hand landed on my shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

"The foot is okay." I gave a half-hearted smile. "Thank you for asking."

The elderly man's head tilted slightly, and he tried to smile back, failing horribly. We both knew that wasn't what he was referring to. Apparently, Ollie and I sucked at keeping our relationship a secret. I peered over my shoulder at everyone else in the room. They were already fixated on me, wanting to know the same thing as Mick.

"I'm fine," I assured my coworkers, suppressing the tears I'd refused to cry in this room. A deep breath was taken before finishing what I wanted them to hear. "I shouldn't be the one back here running this kitchen, and I'm sorry I couldn't get him to stay for all of us."

"You've got this." He gave my shoulder a little shake before releasing it.

This time he managed that smile I didn't know I needed. Mick's reassurance gave my confidence a small boost for the night. Even if he didn't mean it, I needed to hear it. Years away from graduating, Ollie leaving me this legacy was possibly the stupidest thing he'd ever done.

"Thank you," I whispered. It was meant not just for Mick but for the entire kitchen staff, who were now under my command. They all could have fled when they heard the news Ollie had taken off for Seattle. This would have been much worse without all of them.

The door of the kitchen swung open, and my heart nearly leapt through my ribcage until I realized I was looking at the wrong Mulligan brother. Mikah appeared with a fresh haircut—now undeniably a relation to Ollie. The two looked so similar that, for a brief second, I thought Ollie had walked through that door and come back to me. We shared a look that said a lot. He might not get along with his brother, but Mikah felt abandoned, too. His head motioned for me to follow to the bar, and he swung the door back open and held it.

This couldn't be good.

Limping my way to the door, my arms crossed over my stomach protectively. I was going to ask a question I didn't want to know the answer to. "Have you talked to him?"

"I got back from Seattle last night."

"And?"

It seemed like a silly question to ask. I knew the answer. Ollie wasn't here. This wasn't like he was late for a shift. He would not burst through the door on the other side of the restaurant and rush across the floor to me. Mikah's face said it all. Ollie wasn't coming back.

"I tried." His head shook no. "I'm sorry, Sloan."

My vision blurred, but I swallowed down the knot that formed in my throat with a bobbing head. "Is he okay?" My voice cracked, hating the thought of him alone in his own head. I needed to know.

"The closest he ever was to being okay was when he was with you. I've never seen him laugh like that with anyone."

"Yeah, well..." I turned to return to the kitchen. I took it back—if I was going to cry, the kitchen where I fell in love with Oliver Mulligan was exactly where it needed to happen. "It was mutual."

Every pair of eyes was back on me as I reentered the room. Losing my shit in front of Hallie or Ollie was one thing. Losing it in front of the entire kitchen staff was another. This had to stop. I took multiple deep breaths and returned to the sink, talking myself out of the brewing panic attack. I didn't need to wash my hands again, but I needed to keep them busy, and it was the first thing that came to mind. The water got so hot that it scolded my skin, so I gave up. The water was turned off, and I grabbed a towel to dry my wet hands. I was going to take this one night at a time to prove to myself I could do this.

"What's the special tonight, chef?" Todd appeared at my side with a dry-erase marker.

"Comfort food." I accepted the marker and moved to the dry-erase board to write Chicken & Dumplings.

>>

My body ached as if it had been a year since I'd last worked. My ass had been kicked by one shift. It was busy; I almost started a fire, and it only took an hour before I was back on crutches. My legs almost always hurt after work, but now my arm muscles burned, too. Being the only chef in the kitchen was exhausting, but I made it through the night without having a meltdown. No promises were made for the rest of the night, though.

The bathwater was extra hot. My entire body practically moaned as it sank beneath the bubbles. I pulled my right foot out, placing my knee on the edge of the tub to keep the stitches out of the water. There was no way I was denying myself this simple indulgence. Another luxury was hanging in all his green glory from the shower wall, mocking me.

"It's just me and you now, big guy." My toe pushed the limp object up a few inches before allowing it to fall back into its hanging position. "If I moaned Ollie instead of Hulk, is that like a deal-breaker for us? Or...?"

"Um." Hallie's head poked through the open bathroom door. "I'm just wondering if I heard you talking to your shower dildo?"

"You did." I said, confirming while sinking further beneath the bubbles until they hit my chin. "We're discussing our terms. I'm trying to figure out if he's into kinky shit."

"Right," Hallie agreed, gathering her long, blonde hair to the top of her head and pulling a rubber band from her wrist to secure it. "Well, I don't mean to disrupt you and your Hulk. I just wanted to let you know I'm leaving for work. Double shift again tonight. So, you can take my bed... if you want it."

It was a thoughtful gesture, but my head shook no. The new bed would arrive sometime later in the week. Until then, I was okay with hanging out on the floor. I scored a sweet air mattress from TJ's for ten dollars, only to find out it had a hole. Now I was using a sleeping bag that Hallie stole from her childhood bedroom. It was the same one I'd used whenever I'd needed an escape from my foster family. Times had definitely changed since then.

"I'll be okay."

"Okay," Hallie agreed, lingering in the doorway as if to question if that statement was about the sleeping arrangement or generally okay. "I'm really proud of you, Sloan. Not that I want to see you cry, but it would be justifiable if you did. I won't get mad."

A lovely offer, but I really hadn't cried since the airport. On the verge, yeah, many times. Like today, when Mikah told me Ollie wouldn't come back with him. Now, I just felt too tired to let the tears go. They'd probably come eventually, and when they did, I was going to be damn sure my best friend didn't take the brunt of it. It was time the tables turned and for me to be a better friend and roommate.

"I'll be home at around seven. Call me if you need anything. Okay?"

"I'll have breakfast ready for you when you get here," I promised, grinning at my bestie. "Waffles."

Smiling back, Hallie nodded and closed the bathroom door.

>>

After taking a bath for so long my skinned pruned, I washed, rinsed and dried myself before dressing in a loose gray tank and the plaid pants Ollie's mom had purchased for Christmas Eve. Chicken and dumpling leftovers from Mulligan's were eaten while binging reruns of Beat Bobby Flay, but it didn't take long before I was dozing off. I couldn't remember who had won the last few episodes, even though I'd watched them at least five times each. Tonight, and the entire week actually, was now catching up with me. The lights were turned off one by one until the duplex fell dark.

Once upstairs, I brushed my teeth before finally sliding into the bright pink and purple sleeping bag Hallie had loaned me. It was made for a child. Even though I was short, I could have used a few more inches. No matter though. I still had my comforter, which I pulled up to my chin to keep warm. It took no time before I'd fallen back to sleep again.

I dreamed I'd burned down the Mulligan's kitchen, by accident, of course. Pancakes started on fire... which weren't even on the menu. I'd forgotten to flip them. Dream me had set the whole place ablaze, and not even that brought back its chef. Perhaps I'd left them there to burn on purpose. A way to get him to come home.

Before the firefighters could even control the nonexistent flames, I came out of the dream, still sleepy and groggy. The fridge downstairs opened and shut, causing me to look at the clock on the dresser. Hallie had worked only one shift—which was common for quiet nights at the nursing home. It was a good thing most nights. The girl rarely had shifts that weren't doubles anymore.

"Quiet night?" I asked, dropping back to the sleeping bag when I heard Hallie reach the top of the stairs.

I peered at the door when she didn't answer. It wasn't my best friend standing there. For a moment, I questioned whether I'd fallen back into a state of dreaming. But when my heart danced at the sight of Ollie in the doorway, I knew I was very much awake.

"You should never keep a key under the welcome mat." He kept his head down as he walked further into the room. He dropped himself down the wall to sit beside my sleeping bag. "I should have told you that the night I brought you home. Two women living alone should have some sort of alarm."

I sat up, ignoring the request for more home security. That was the last thing on my mind. "You came home?"

"I forgot something." He lifted the bottle slightly, his attention not lifting from the item in his hand.

"Is that my Worcestershire?"

"Technically, it's mine. I was the one to purchase it."

"Well, technically, I had it in my hand first. You stole it."

"I don't deserve you." His admission came out of nowhere.

Ollie lifted his gaze from the bottle to me, and I could see the pain he was feeling behind that statement. There was no laugh—not even a hint of a smile to say that he was joking like he normally did. He seriously believed he didn't deserve me.

"Ollie..."

"Please let me get this out." His lip trembled, and he bit it to make it stop. It didn't stop his eyes from dropping some heavy tears.

If Ollie needed to get something off his chest, I would let him have his time to do so. Wrapping my arms around my knees and drawing them closer to my chest, I gave a single nod for him to continue.

"I have always been extremely selfish. I've told you that. It's not a secret to anyone who knows me." He sniffled and toyed with the sleeping bag's zipper. "I'll never deny that Shelby was right to leave me, because I was horrible to her. I always put myself first in our relationship. I thought if I wanted her and my career, she would stick around. I never took her feelings into account, even though she told me she was lonely. Honestly, I rarely cared what she was feeling."

As much as I didn't like Shelby, that didn't sound like much of a life to have. It seemed stupid to be jealous of the girl who once had Ollie when it sounded like she never really had him at all. The more I heard of their relationship, the more it seemed like she was the only one in it.

"And my dad..." He paused, searching for the right words. "Maybe I didn't kill him, Sloan, but I didn't help make things easier on him. That feels just as bad."

Oh, Ollie.

I freed one arm to place a hand on his knee. Ollie used the sleeve of his shirt to clean his face, and when done, he still couldn't seem to bring himself to look anywhere but the zipper or the condiment that was still in his grasp.

"The day of my dad's wake—the first time I saw Mikah with Shelby—I promised myself I would never be that selfish again. It was a punishment, and I was heeding it. Getting what I wanted cost me everything, and in the end, I had nothing I wanted. Not the girl. Not my dad. Not the restaurant... I even lost my brother out of it."

A few quick sniffles came from his nose—the way a child does after crying to the point of being tired. His head fell back to the wall with a thud, and he pressed his eyes shut tight. The quiet only made my anxiety for him worse. I lifted my hand from his knee, but he grabbed it and held it tight, keeping it right in that spot.

"I'm breaking my last rule, Sloan. I'm going to be selfish again."

"You are?"

His head bobbed yes, and now I could see the smile trying to lift at the corners of his lips. "I want something again. Selfishly, I'm going to take it."

I lifted my head. "Oh?"

"I don't deserve you," he said again, finally bringing himself to meet my awaiting eyes. "But it wasn't the Worcestershire I forgot."

"No?" I laughed as tears sprang from my eyes.

"No." His dimples caved into his glistening cheeks, and my heart instantly melted for them. "I forgot to tell you how crazy in love with you I am."

I couldn't get to him fast enough. One moment I was beside him; the next, I was straddling his lap with tear-soaked lips pressed to his. The flavor was a combination of salty we both could come to terms with. Ollie's arms wrapped around me, bringing my body as close to his as he could get me. I wrapped my arms around his neck.

"I love you," I said between kisses.

"I'm so sorry for running. I lose everything I love." Ollie squeezed me tighter, leaving our kiss to nibble the skin of my chin, down my neck, and onto the exposed skin above my breasts. "I can't lose you, Sloan."

"You won't," I promised, tugging his shirt to let him know it needed to come off... and soon. "So long as you never leave me to run that kitchen alone again."

"Never again." His head shook. "Mikah said I can have my menu back if I attend grief counseling."

"Well played, Mikah." I laughed, lifting my shirt and tossing it somewhere to be lost for the night. That was a plan I could get on board with. I'd even go with him.

"Where is the bed?" Ollie got to his knees with me still wrapped around him.

"It was time to let it go. I threw it out. There's a new one coming."

His nose scrunched, eying the floor and our predicament. "Am I about to make love to you on a My Little Pony sleeping bag?"

My head shook no, with a smile that said I was up to no good. "Hallie said I could use her bed tonight."

Ollie got to his feet so fast I became dizzy. We were across the hall in a flash, both grinning ear to ear. We collapsed into a very comfortable bed with a shared moan.

"I doubt this is what she had in mind when she said you could use this bed." He chuckled, keeping himself between my legs and tucking my bangs behind my ear.

Our shared smile made my cheeks hurt—a feeling I loved just as much as the man who made it happen. Ollie was the reason I could form a smile again. I loved him, and he loved me back. My life went off the rails, and somehow, he got me back.

"Well,"—I unbuttoned his plaid shirt one button at a time—"that will teach her to specify next time."