Winning His War

13

Andrew's POV

"That is way too much vanilla," Jem chuckled but did nothing to stop me as the liquid continued to flow over the measuring spoon and into the bowl below it.

"Can you fix it," I asked with a frown.

"I can try."

Today was my first day off in a while. Ever since I started working at the camp for troubled kids, it was hard to find time for myself. Most therapists who worked there had certain hours and if you missed them you missed them; nothing you can do about it but I had never liked the idea of that.

The first time someone in my cabin needed me and I wasn't there was the last time I stuck to set times and opted for just always being at camp. Sadly that camp couldn't pay all my bills and while I loved working there, I didn't want to stay there forever so I finally joined a practice.

Now working two jobs made it even harder to get common days off.

I had requested this day off from camp weeks ago and purposely didn't book any appointments at the new practice. Of course that was before I was shot at and almost died. I had hoped to use the day to go out and spend the day spending money I didn't have and unwinding but when I mentioned going anywhere he shot it down quickly, saying it wasn't safe it. It sucked and I didn't like it but I knew he was right so I didn't bother fighting it.

In attempts to lift my spirits he marched into the kitchen with a smug smile and began pulling things out with a quick promise to teach me how to make chocolate chip cookies.

His smile never faded as he patiently fixed every mistake I made, even the ones I did on purpose to see if his patients had a limit.

"All fixed," he said as he scooped out what he could of the extra vanilla. "Now all you have to do is mix it up and make sure everything is mushed together and put it in the oven for a little bit."

"Don't you have an actually mixer," I asked as I looked at the wooden spoon he held out to me.

"You don't need one of those when you have arms like these," he teased, flexing his biceps a bit.

"What if you have arms like mine?"

"You suffer until it's mixed well enough."

I huffed at his answer as I took the spoon and turned back to the mostly dry batter as Jem watched in silence.

"Is this right," I asked as I stirred it in circles but it wasn't really mixing.

"Not really," he chuckled. I didn't have a chance to ask him to fix it before I felt his breath on my neck. I could feel him looming over me, only inches away from touching each other. "Do you want me to show you?"

I only nod, not trusting my voice as my cheeks become too warm for my liking.

He doesn't say a word as he took a small step forward. His right hand covered mine gently while his left gripped mine as we held the bowl in place.

I barely paid attention to how he mixed or for how long he did it. I just stared at the batter helpless as his breath tickled my neck.

"Doesn't that look so much better," he whispered, his lips brushing against my ear.

I forced myself to nod as he backed away, allowing my lungs to suck in their first breath of air since he came up behind me.

"Now just make small balls of it and put them a few inches apart on the pan," he said as if nothing had happened.

My cheeks were still burning up but I didn't wait for them to cool down before doing what Jem said.

Soon enough the first batch was in the oven, leaving Jem and I alone with nothing to do for fifteen minutes.