I glanced over my shoulder as I hit the kitchen. I couldn’t quite read her expression. It was almost as if the space made her nervous somehow. Or maybe it was simply the subject we were about to broach. “Thanks. It took a long time to design, and even longer to build. I feel like I’m still not all that settled.”

“You had this place built?”

I nodded as I pulled a pot from under the sink. “I’ve always loved the idea of getting to choose everything about the place you call home, but it never made sense until I moved here.”

“It’s quite the place.”

I chuckled and poured milk into the pot, turning on the heat. “My sister says it’s ridiculous.”

Anna leaned against the counter. “I didn’t know you had a sister.”

Because she hadn’t asked. From the moment I’d made my way through the doors of Hope House, Anna had kept her distance. I just couldn’t figure out why. Over the past two years, I’d seen her with other volunteers, both new and old. She might have an eagle eye until a newcomer proved to be trustworthy, but then she was warm. Welcoming. I’d never gotten that kind of treatment.

“Yup. She’s in law school at Stanford right now.”

Anna let out a low whistle. “Smart cookie.”

“That she is, and she uses it to beat up on her big brother.”

“It sounds like you two are close. That’s really nice.”

I muttered a curse under my breath. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

Anna waved me off. “Don’t apologize. I meant it. I’m glad you have her.”

“Me, too.” But I hated that Anna had lost her chance at that. I scooped out some chocolate mix from my favorite shop in San Francisco. I still ordered the stuff by the crate to be shipped here now that I couldn’t pick it up in person. Carefully, I poured the milk on top, swirling it around with a spoon.

I moved past Anna to the massive fridge and pulled out a canister of whipped cream. “A little, a lot, or somewhere in the middle.”

Anna stared at the canister. “A lot,” she whispered.

I heaped it on top of hers and then handed her the mug.

“Thank you.”

“Anytime.” I sprayed some on mine and then stuck the can back in the fridge. “Stools or couch?” I wanted Anna to be wherever she felt the most comfortable.

“Stools. I don’t want to spill on your couch.”

“Trust me, it wouldn’t be the first time. I usually end up eating my dinner in front of the TV.”

She slid onto a stool. “I think the countertop still feels a little safer.”

I eased onto the seat one down from hers. Close but not right next to her. “Want to tell me what happened?”