The smell of bacon frying broke into his consciousness first.
Bacon, he thought in the dark haze of sleep. Smells so good. But who would be cooking? He opened his eyes in two tiny slits. The room came into focus a moment later. A room in Doc’s house. No—Avery’s house. He’d stayed at Avery’s house last night.
He sat up on the edge of the bed and rubbed his hands over his face. First things first—the bathroom. Tucker tugged on his jeans and padded across the hall. His blond hair stuck up in all directions, so he washed up in the sink and tamed it to the best of his ability. Then he headed back downstairs. Maybe now he and Avery could talk.
But the person standing in front of the stove wasn’t Avery.
It was Shanna, her dark hair pulled back in a shining ponytail. She was barefoot and wore pajamas covered in polar bears. He could hear her humming a little tune under her breath.
“Morning, Shanna,” he said. “Where’s your mom?”
She looked over her shoulder and threw him a smile that was so heart-wrenchingly familiar he thought he might be having a heart attack. The feeling passed as he stepped into the kitchen.
“It’s a snow day. They called off school, so I’m making Mom breakfast in bed.” Shanna expertly flipped the bacon in the pan. “I thought I would make pancakes, too.” She frowned at the stove. “It’s going a little slower than I thought.”
“It smells great. Want some help?”
“Well, yeah.” Shanna glanced toward Tucker, a conspiratorial light in her eyes—almost as if she hadn’t tried out that sassy attitude with anyone just yet. “Yeah, I would,” she said again, then stepped aside to make room at the stove.
Tucker laughed, his heart lifting. “All right, then. Let’s get these pancakes going.”
He worked his way through Avery’s kitchen, pulling together the ingredients for pancakes and mixing them together in a bowl he found in one of the high cupboards. Soon enough, he had Avery’s skillet on the stove and the pancakes in the skillet. Shanna stood nearby, watching over his shoulder.
“Pancakes are harder to flip than bacon,” she said. “I’m glad you stayed here.”
“Me too.” He cleared his throat. “Did you learn how to cook from your mom?”
Shanna shrugged. “Mostly. And there was a cooking class at school last year. We learned how to make brownies.”
“I love brownies.”
“Me too.”
The pancakes bubbled up on the tops, and Tucker recognized the signs they were ready to toss. One after the other, he turned them over until all four were flipped.
“How do you know when to turn them?” Shanna stepped closer, her eyes laser-focused on the pancakes. “I can never tell.”
“When the bubbles pop and stay open a little bit,” he said. “Watch.”
“This is like science class. I love science class.”
“Science was the best class,” Tucker agreed. “Do you like science fiction books too, or just science class?”
Shanna lit up. “I found these really old books in the library, called Animorphs. Have you ever heard of those?”
Tucker laughed out loud. “Have I heard of them? I loved those, back when I was younger. I think I bothered my parents into buying the whole set. And there are at least—”
“A hundred!” cried Shanna. “There are so many. I haven’t even read that many yet. But it’s wild. All those kids are getting kidnapped by aliens, and their parents don’t even know it.”
“Or their parents are in on it.”
Shanna shivered, then grimaced. “Parents would be in on it. I bet my dad wouldn’t have been, though.”
A beat passed, and Tucker spoke before he could stop himself. “Where is your dad, speaking of?”
“I don’t know.” Shanna gave him the same tight-lipped look that Avery had given him earlier. “I haven’t met him. Hey, are those pancakes ready to flip?”
Fifteen minutes later, he followed Shanna up the stairs, carrying the tray. They’d come up with quite the breakfast in bed—one small plate loaded with bacon, three pancakes, and some scrambled eggs. They stopped outside the master bedroom and he handed the tray to Shanna, then helped her open the door.
“Rise and shine, Mom!”
He followed Shanna in, knowing the instant he crossed the threshold that it was a mistake.
Avery sat up in bed, clutching the blankets to her chest. She wore a black tank top to sleep, her dark hair deliciously wild, and Tucker was hit full force with the memory of how she looked naked. Of course, that would have been ten years ago now. How had she changed, since having a child? The urge to know, to drink in every inch of her, was the most powerful thing he’d felt in years. Avery’s face turned scarlet.
“Hey, honey,” she said, her voice husky with sleep. “Did you make breakfast?”
“Yeah.” Shanna went over and put the tray on Avery’s lap, forcing her to let go of the blanket. “And Tucker helped.”
“Did he?”
“Only a little.” He tipped an imaginary hat to her and left. It was the gentlemanly thing to do—to give her a bit of privacy. Tucker went down to the kitchen and helped himself to some pancakes and eggs, adding one strip of bacon at the last second. He ate alone. Shanna must’ve curled up in bed next to Avery, because their muffled voices floated down from above his head.
He was almost done with his breakfast when Shanna came through, legs swishing in a pair of snow pants. She’d dressed for the weather in a blue set of snow gear and a pink hat. Her cheeks were already flushed with the warmth of the house.
“You going out?”
She nodded. “I want to build a fort,” she told him, then headed for the kitchen door. “Thanks for helping me with breakfast.”
“No problem.” He’d help her with the cleanup, too, since
