“Well, I better break up these two biddies before someone loses an eye. Then we’ll never eat.” He laughs and follows me into the kitchen where Sniffer and Sam are pointing fingers and shoving each other like a couple of toddlers.

I clap my hands loudly. “All right, children,” I say in my best kindergarten teacher voice. They stop, look at me, and speak at once so I interrupt, “Ugh, seriously. Sniffer, you go sit over there. Sam, you over here.”

“Why does he get to stay over there?” Sniffer sneers. What the hell is going on here? These two always argue, but I’ve never seen them go at each other like this.

“Sniffer, what’s going on here?” I look back and forth between the two of them.

His eyes narrow before he catches himself and tries to smile. “Nothing sweetheart, I just want something different than Sam. It’s fine. You make whatever he wants. Hell, we should probably be making you dinner.” He laughs lightly, but I’m not fooled.

When I look over at Sam, his head is down staring at the countertop. Sensing this is something they want kept private, I let them both off the hook. “Ah, okay then. Why don’t you both tell me what you were thinking, and I decide if I want to make either. Sniffer, you first.”

He looks at Sam, and I can see the hurt in his eyes. “How about burgers?”

Sam’s head snaps up. “That’s not what you wanted. You wanted spaghetti, and I wanted the burgers.”

Sniffer turns his head and looks out the window. “It’s fine, really. Burgers sound great.”

I don’t like this at all. “I’m not gonna make either! I want Swedish meatballs. I can make a big batch in case Masen’s hungry when he gets home. And you can both help me.”

Mac, who’s been quiet the entire time, says, “That sounds tasty. What can I do to help?”

“How about you start tearing up this bread so I can make some crumbs?” I hand him a loaf of white sandwich bread and a bowl. After washing my hands and instructing them all to do the same. “Sniffer, you want to help me gather some ingredients from the pantry?”

He smiles. “Sure Sophie.”

“Sam, can you grab the hamburger, eggs, and milk from the fridge, please?” He nods his head but watches Sniffer as he walks to the pantry with a sad look on his face. As soon as we’re behind the door, I reach up and lace my arms around Sniffer’s neck. “I don’t know what’s wrong. You don’t need to tell me, but are you okay?” I ask, concerned.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just being a selfish butthead,” he says glumly, hugging me back, “But thanks for worrying about me.” He pulls back and gives me a small, genuine smile.

“Always, you were my first real friend, remember?”

He ruffles my hair. “Let’s hurry up and get what we need before my brother senses you’re too close to another male and comes home and kills me.” He chuckles while grabbing the ingredients that I tell him we’ll need.