I strode to the kitchen, coming to a stop in the middle of the space. I didn’t have the first idea of where to even start. Ingredients. I went to the pantry, pulling out a loaf of bread. Toast was easy. I could handle toast.

I set it on the counter and went to the fridge, surveying the contents. Most of it was packaged meals Caelyn had left. But there wasn’t enough for all of us. I did have a carton of eggs and some cheese.

My dad had been the master of cheesy eggs. Every Saturday morning, he’d be in charge of the kitchen. He’d turn up the oldies station and sing off-key as he cooked, Beth and I sitting on the counter and watching him work.

I had the sudden and burning urge to make those cheesy eggs for Caelyn and the kids. To grab my portable speaker and find some oldies to play. But I’d draw the line at singing. That was taking it a step too far.

Pulling out the eggs and cheese, I shut the door with my foot. I moved from cabinet to cabinet, grabbing everything I could possibly need. Pan. Cheese grater. Salt and pepper. Bowl. I pictured my dad, the steps he took every Saturday morning. But the image, the details of it, were fuzzy. I could see his face clear as day, but his hands were out of focus.

I muttered a few choice curses under my breath. Curses for losing yet another piece of him. And it was my own damn fault. Because I hadn’t kept their memory alive. Instead, I’d stuffed it down for far too long. Because every time I thought of them, I’d been flooded with the pain of them being taken from me. So, I’d turned it all off. The good and the bad. And I’d learned too late that losing the good was far worse than remembering the bad.

I cracked an egg on the side of the bowl with a little too much force. Pieces of shell went flying into the bowl. “Dammit.” I reached for a towel and ended up sending the whole thing crashing into the sink.

“What’s going on?”

I spun at the sound of Caelyn’s voice, my hands covered in eggshell and goo. “I, uh. Hell. I was trying to make cheesy eggs, but apparently, I’m not cut out for the job.”

Her lips quirked up. “Cheesy eggs, huh?”

“My dad used to make them. Every Saturday. I just thought it might be nice to make them for you guys.”

Caelyn’s expression softened. “I love that you had that. I bet I would’ve liked your dad. I happen to be a big fan of cheesy eggs.”