“I heated up your muffins, too,” Jubilee said. She blushed at Heath’s eyebrow raise.
“Oh, you didn’t need to,” he said, but at her embarrassed expression, he added hastily, “Thank you, though.”
Rose watched as she was completely ignored by her brother and by Jubilee, who both seemed to have stepped into their own little world. What was it about these Thorntons? Rose mused. She began to eat her muffin in silence, the warm, buttery sweetness almost making her moan out loud.
Jubilee tucked a tendril of her dark hair behind her ear. She was a beautiful girl, with her dark hair and creamy skin. She looked like her siblings, although she was smaller than her brothers and sister. Rose had only run into Jubilee a few times, and it was difficult not to like her, with her infectious smile and sweet manner.
Right now, that smile had fled, and Jubilee seemed at a loss for words. To Rose’s immense amusement, her brother’s cheeks were slightly red.
She tossed a large bite of muffin into her mouth, chewed, and decided to give them a reprieve.
“These muffins are amazing,” Rose said. “Do you make them or does Megan?”
“Megan, for the most part, but I help. I made this batch, actually.”
“I wish I could bake. I just burn things or set off the smoke alarm.”
Heath seemed to shake off his trance. “Didn’t you set a quesadilla on fire once when we were kids?”
“I was ten!”
“Yeah, but who sets a quesadilla on fire?”
Jubilee laughed, and it sounded like bells tinkling. If she weren’t so nice, Rose would almost be liable to hate her. She had a distinct feeling Jubilee Thornton had never had to deal with anything terrible in her whole life. She’d lived a cushy existence, with her beautiful, rich family.
“I’ll let you two go. Enjoy.” Jubilee sent one last shy smile toward Heath before she left them to eat in silence.
Rose wanted to grill Heath about Jubilee, but her brother had a sixth sense when it came to what she was thinking. Before she could say a word, he asked, “How’s work? Your apartment?”
She heard the words your new neighbor underneath the question. Tearing apart her muffin, she said, “Good. Fine. Nothing much to tell. Trent threw out a guy last night who got so drunk that he tried to kiss Lizzie, thinking she was his ex-girlfriend.”
Heath’s eyes widened. “Shit.”
“Yeah, shit. Lizzie was laughing because the guy was so trashed, and he fell down in front of her before he could touch her. But Trent was pissed.” She shook her head. “Never mess with the boss’s wife.”
“But that’s it? Nothing else to tell?”
She wanted to laugh, but it would probably turn into a sob. She wished she could tell Heath everything about Johnny, and about how he’d given her a deadline to “make up her mind.” A shiver went down her spine.
She wanted to tell him, and yet… looking at him now, seeing how he cared for her, would he still want her once he knew the truth? Heath tended to see things as very black and white. If he knew what his baby sister had done for him…
She didn’t want to think about it.
So she forced a smile onto her face and replied, “When I’m not working, I walk Callie. Or read. I should probably learn how to cook. Can you die from eating ramen noodles too much?”
That made Heath frown. “Rose, if you need help—”
She held up a hand. “I’m fine. I’m joking.” Leaning toward him, she said, “I have a question for you.”
“Do I want to know?”
“Yes. Well, I want to know. What was that all about?” She gestured toward the direction Jubilee had gone.
Heath feigned ignorance. “What was what about?”
“Oh, come on. You, Jubilee Thornton. Those heart-eyes between you. It was like some anime.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, because there’s nothing between us. She’s my best friend’s little sister.”
“Because you’re so old?” She rolled her eyes. “You’re not even thirty. She’s not some girl fresh out of high school. It wouldn’t be creepy.”
“Thank you,” he said wryly. Then he sobered. “Even then, there’s nothing there. Don’t make mountains out of molehills.”
“Now, that’s unfair—”
“Leave it, Rose.” At her shocked look, he added more kindly, “It’s nothing. Even if there is something, nothing could happen. End of story.”
She wanted to point out that that made zero sense, but she knew when to leave things well enough alone. When they’d been younger, she would’ve teased him mercilessly until he’d finally lost his temper, which was rare for him.
Heath had always been the calm one, the capable one. He’d kept a roof over their heads after their parents had died. Their father had been killed in a car accident when Rose had only been three, while their mother had died of breast cancer when Rose was fourteen. The only fortunate part of their mother’s death had been that she’d died after Heath had turned eighteen and could become Rose’s guardian. Rose had been terrified that they’d be placed in foster care when they’d learned of their mother’s diagnosis.
Heath had worked odd jobs, and although they didn’t always have enough to eat, they’d persevered. With some scrimping and saving, along with Rose insisting that she contribute, Heath had been able to go to the University of Washington to get his teaching degree, a dream he’d had since he’d been a child.
Then Johnny—and everything that had come along with him—had happened.
Rose gazed at her muffin and felt sick to her stomach. Her latte was too sweet now, and the muffin was like a ball of lead.
“Do you remember when I brought home those four kittens?” she said, desperate to lighten the mood.
Heath grinned. “Yes, and you refused to let me take them to the shelter.”
“They would’ve put them to sleep!”
“They were mangy little things covered in fleas.”
“They were adorable.”
They reminisced as the morning passed, talking about only the happy memories. They never talked about Heath’s arrest, or about when Rose had disappeared and refused to talk to Heath for years. They didn’t talk about the difficult things, because sometimes you need a respite from the shadows of the past.
Or perhaps, Rose thought sadly, they were both too scared to be honest with each other.
“When do you have to go back to work?” she asked as she finished up her latte. They’d talked so much it had gotten cold.
“Not until mid-August, mostly for meetings. The kids don’t come back until after Labor Day.” He smiled, and Rose’s heart constricted. She’d missed seeing Heath with his first class and hearing about it all.
Heath had always wanted to be a teacher, ever since his favorite teacher ever, Mrs. Dunby, had inspired him in the fourth grade. Heath had a patience with kids that Rose admired; she certainly didn’t have it.
“I can’t imagine teaching fifth graders,” she said. “That just seems so young.”
“Not that young. It’s better than kindergarten: at least in fifth grade, everyone’s potty-trained and mostly capable of holding a conversation.”