Caleb's POV:
I washed the last bowl, set it on the counter and stepped back, rubbing my hand over my face. I made chicken, mashed potatoes, and Milo’s favorite buttered peas for lunch—but it felt like I’d run a damn marathon making it. Not because cooking was hard.
Because I couldn’t get her out of my head.
Elena.
The almost-kiss I almost—almost—let happen. That I still wished had happen, despite knowing how foolish it was...
I shoved the thought aside for the hundredth time as I covered everything with foil. The kid was still passed out, and so was Elena. I didn't want to eat alone--I had had too many lunches alone, and the reason I ran here was to spend time with Milo.
I sighed, peaking into his room, and he didn't look like he would wake up anytime soon.
"I can't make his life a
