The morning after their first real kiss, Cassie woke up to the scent of coffee and something sizzling in the kitchen. It took her a second to register that Emmett was still here—that he hadn’t done his usual disappearing act when things got too real.
That alone told her everything she needed to know.
She stretched, groaning slightly as she sat up. The couch was hardly the most comfortable place to sleep, but they’d been too caught up in quiet conversations and stolen kisses to care about moving to an actual bed.
A smirk tugged at her lips as she padded toward the kitchen. “You cooking? Who are you, and what have you done with Emmett?”
Emmett glanced over his shoulder, one brow raised. “Funny.”
Cassie leaned against the counter, watching as he flipped what looked like the saddest panca
