Chapter 11
Pippin’s temper is gone by the time he gets home. I’ve had time to lift weights and prepare lunch; a big pot of chicken soup is simmering away on the stove. I’m on the couch, catching up with my favorite YouTube channels and doing research on chickens, when Pippin gets back.
He tosses a newspaper on the coffee table. “I’m not kissing you. I’m a sweaty pig.” He flashes a grin at me and I’m glad to see my happy Pippin back.
“Go shower. Lunch is ready when you’re done.”
Ten minutes later, we’re eating in front of the computer; I’ve managed to get Pippin hooked on some of the homesteading channels, too.
He gulps the soup as though he hasn’t had a decent meal in weeks and doesn’t slow down until he’s devoured half the bowl. We eat in silence, except for the occasional appreciati
