Jax lost herself to the delicacy of the early morning, the pure joy on Gretchen’s face, and the intimacy of the quiet kitchen. She could’ve sworn Gretchen was back to her old self, like she was the woman who eagerly married her in Las Vegas.

She cleared her throat. “Do you need help?”

“With oatmeal? No. Breakfast is one of the few meals I can handle,” Gretchen said with a small laugh.

“I’m going to shower really quick. I’ll be out in ten minutes in case you change your mind.” She didn’t give Gretchen time to say anything more before she dashed back up the stairs. She wanted to be back as quickly as possible to ask her a few questions, like how she was feeling or what she had planned for her day—all the things Jax had been wondering but couldn’t pull out of Gretchen. She’d been so eerily quiet, but maybe now that she was back in her own house with her family, she’d open up and start talking.

Jax showered quickly and threw her sweats back on. She’d get dressed for work later. She was still towel-drying her hair when she returned to the kitchen.

“That was more like twelve minutes.”

Jax chuckled and tossed her towel on the back of the kitchen chair. She leaned against the counter next to Gretchen and surveyed the ingredients. “You got everything for a good bowl of oats. The only thing missing is—”

“Nuts,” Gretchen said, raising her finger. She rushed to the cabinet and stepped back in shock when she opened it and stared at dishes.

Jax laughed outright. “Spring-cleaning fever a couple years ago. That’s when we redid Caleb’s room, too.” Jax stepped around Gretchen to get to the correct cabinet. She leaned into her space, indulging in their closeness but still being appropriate. She was happy to see Gretchen still had a plethora of nuts to choose from. She grabbed the almonds. “Caleb prefers syrup in his oatmeal, but you won’t allow it.”

“I got some brown sugar for him.”

Jax dropped the almonds on the counter. Caleb hadn’t started to really enjoy oatmeal until recently. She studied Gretchen’s face, looking for any sign of her mental state. Gretchen looked frustrated and confused.

Gretchen shook her head. “This isn’t how the cabinets were.”

“You don’t remember the cabinets, but you remember the brown sugar?”

Gretchen stared, wide-eyed and speechless. Instead of talking, she turned her attention back to the food. Her hand was shaking when she lifted the steaming kettle.