(Sabrina's POV)
Three months ago, I was sitting in a hospital waiting room with my son's hand crushing mine, watching doctors wheel my ex-husband into surgery after his ex-girlfriend put a knife in him trying to get to me.
Three months ago, I didn't know if any of this would survive.
Now Jake is standing on a step stool in my kitchen, wearing my apron over his Spider-Man pajamas, and he has batter in his hair.
"You said medium heat," he tells Ethan, pointing the spatula like a weapon.
"That is medium heat."
"Then why is it smoking?"
Ethan looks at the pan. Looks at Jake. "That's just... steam."
"That's not steam. Steam is white. That's gray. Gray means burning." Jake turns to me in the doorway with the expression of a man seeking a second opinion. "Mom. Is gray steam or burning?"
