Page 63 of Icebound Hearts
I glance at the timer on the counter. “We’ve got another five minutes before it’s time to check them, but they might need more time after that. We’ll see. Don’t get too close to the oven, I don’t want you getting burned.”
“Mm, I can’t wait,” Jake says, although he thankfully backs up a bit from the oven. “I’m gonna eat the whole thing!”
“What about your dad? Aren’t you gonna save any for him?”
Jake shrugs. “He probably won’t eat them anyway. He’s on a diet.”
“Yeah, we’ll see about that,” I tell him, and Jake giggles.
“Are you gonna put corn flakes on yours?”
I tap my chin. “Hm. Never tried that, but I have to admit, it sounds kind of good. Maybe I’ll give it a shot.”
Jake climbs back into the chair I pulled up to the counter for him and wrinkles his nose at me as I start rinsing out the big mixing bowl we used for the batter. “Do you eat those on everything?”
“Not really. Just ice cream. But if you keep making that face it’s going to get stuck that way.” I tap the end of the mixing spoon against his scrunched nose, smearing it with brownie mix, and he giggles before wiping it on the back of his hand and licking it off.
“Mm,” Jake groans, throwing his head back with a pleased look on his face, and I laugh because he didn’t get all the brownie mix off his nose. But I don’t get the chance to tell him because the front door opens, and Jake’s eyes light up before he jumps off the chair and goes streaking into the living room.
“Daddy!” he shouts as Sawyer comes into the house carrying his gear bag. He tosses it on the floor and catches Jake as the kid leaps at him. Sawyer scoops him up onto his hip and kisses Jake’s chocolate-tipped nose. It’s probably one of the sweetest things I’ve ever seen him do, but he doesn’t stop there. He makes a show of tasting it on his tongue and sniffing the air, then glances back at Jake.
“Well hello to you too, brownie boy,” he says, and Jake giggles.
“Me and Ms. Violet are making them for you!”
“Yeah, I smelled them as soon as I walked in,” Sawyer says and sets Jake back on his feet to close the door and join me in the kitchen. “Hey. Another welcome home present, huh?” he asks, grinning as he leans against the counter.
My heart flutters at the way his eyes crinkle a little at the corners, but I catch myself and try to tamp it down.
They’re just brownies. They don’t mean anything.
“We thought you might need a sugar boost after burning all those calories on the ice,” I tell Sawyer, and his smile widens. “I mean, assuming you’re willing to cheat on your super-healthy hockey player diet for a day.”
Sawyer chuckles. “For homemade brownies? Always.” The timer buzzes on the counter beside him, and he reaches to turn it off while I scoop up the oven mitt.
“Finally!” Jake claps his hands and hurries to my side. “Can I help cut them?”
“Sure. I just need to make sure they’re done first. Go ahead and get up in your chair.” While Sawyer lifts him into the chair, I open the oven and pull out the rack to jab a toothpick into the center of the brownie square. It comes back clean, so I lift the tray out of the oven and carry it to the counter to set it on a hot pad in front of Jake. Sawyer fishes a knife out of the drawer and passes it to me, so with one mitted hand holding the tray, I slide the knife into the surface of the brownie.
“Follow Ms. Violet’s hand,” Sawyer tells Jake, so he puts his little hand on top of mine while I cut the brownie into even little squares.
“Good job,” I tell a beaming Jake. We already set out a few forks and smaller plates from the cabinet, so I reach for one and scoop up a square of brownie to plate it and hand it to Jake. “You get the first bite but be careful! It’s still very hot.”
Jake snatches a fork off the counter and cuts off a small piece of the brownie. He makes a show of blowing on it, hamming it up for Sawyer and me, then pops it into his mouth. “Mm. Iththogood!” he slurs through the wad of chocolate in his mouth.
“Sawyer?” I ask, offering to get him a piece.
“I’m gonna take my bag upstairs, but I’ll be right back. Go ahead and dish me up a piece, please.”
“Sure,” I say and get his piece ready while he hauls his bag upstairs. I watch Jake devour his piece and hear Sawyer rummaging around upstairs for a few moments before his footsteps thunder back down the steps.
“Ready for round two already?” Sawyer asks, seeing the damage Jake’s done to his piece. It’s almost gone.
“Better not eat too much to save room for dinner. You can always have more for dessert if you’re still hungry later,” I tell Jake, and although he shoots his dad a pleading look, Sawyer sets his phone down on the counter and frowns at him.
“Sorry, buddy, she’s right. Gotta make sure you get all your nutrients first if you want to be a pro skater like your old man someday.”
“What if I steal yours?” Jake asks and reaches for Sawyer’s plate in my outstretched hand, but I pass it to Sawyer quickly with a fork and he takes a bite. His eyes drift shut, and he groans his approval. Watching his reaction and hearing the rumble in his chest makes my mind race and my stomach flutter. But Sawyer’s phone buzzes on the counter, pulling his attention back to it. He reads the screen quickly, makes a face, and swipes away the notification.