Fifteen minutes later, I was sitting at the kitchen table, lazily watching Xander flip thick strips of bacon, cook beans, sausages, and mushrooms, and fry up a batch of perfect hash browns. By now, my stomach was rumbling like crazy — not just because I was starving, but because the scent filling the kitchen was divine.
Xander had always been the best cook in the family, constantly eager to try out some new recipe of his own invention, but also extremely well-versed in making solid, traditional food.
“...so I added these borderlands to the pack territory,” he went on. He’d started chatting away the second he stepped behind the stove, and I was incredibly grateful for it: having him right there made me realize just how much I’d missed him, his presence and the grounding sound of his voice
