I’d been cooking since the age of five. Ma used to leave me at home with nothing but a can of soup, so I had to learn how to use a can opener and the stove to heat it up all on my own. When I turned nine, I was making personal-sized pizzas with homemade dough, using ketchup and Kraft cheese slices as toppings. By the time I was thirteen, I knew how to stuff and roast a whole chicken.
So the fact that Jacob sat frowning across from me was troubling. We sat at a booth in Bro’s Bar & Grill as I placed my dish of mushroom and sausage risotto in front of him. The restaurant was still closed, and it was the second time he’d made me sit across from him with an entrée.
“Hmm…” he murmured, taking his spoon and scooping up a large bite of risotto. I watched him chew really slowly, not showing any emotion in his face as he debated his opinion, as if my food was good enough to allow me to work in his kitchen.
“No,” he flatly said. “This isn’t it.”
“Are you kidding me?” I asked, baffled and insulted. “That dish got me through culinary school. It was my final meal.”
“Well, your teachers failed you then. I don’t know how they do things in Iowa, but here in Wisconsin, we like food that actually tastes good.”
“Screw you, Jacob.”
He smiled. “Bring me another dish next week. We’ll see how that goes.”
“I’m not going to keep bringing you dishes for you to keep shooting down. This is ridiculous. I can make the food on your menu. Just give me the job.”
“Logan. I love you. I really do. But no. I need you to cook with heart!”
“I cook with my hands!”
“But not with any heart. Come back when you find it.”
I flipped him off. He laughed again. “And don’t forget, you still owe me that hair mask recipe!”
***
“How are things going so far, being back in town?” Kellan asked me as we sat in the clinic where he was getting his third round of chemotherapy. I hated the place, because it made his cancer seem more real than I was ready for, but I tried my best to hide my fears. He needed me to be his brother who stood by him, not the weak guy that I felt like becoming.
Watching the nurses hook all types of IVs into his arms was hard for me. Seeing how he winced sometimes in pain, was almost the death of me. But still, I tried to act normal.
“Things are fine. Jacob’s being an asshole, though. He said I had to perfect three dishes before he’d hire me to work in his kitchen.”
“That seems fair,” Kellan said.
I rolled my eyes. “I’m a great cook! You know that!”
“Yeah, but Jacob doesn’t. Just test out a few different dishes at the house. No big deal.”
He was right, it wasn’t a big deal, but it was still annoying seeing how Jacob offered me the job when I first came here, but was now putting guidelines on it.
“How has it been seeing Alyssa?” he asked, closing his eyes. “That has to be weird.”
“You mean seeing her with or without her clothes on?”
His eyes shot open, shock hitting him. “No! You’re sleeping with Alyssa?” he whisper-shouted.
I clutched my teeth together and shrugged. “Define ‘sleeping.’”
“Logan!”
“What?!”
“Why? Why are you sleeping with Alyssa? This is a terrible idea. This is a completely, out of this world, horrible idea. I thought the plan was to avoid her at all costs so you don’t fall back into your past. God. You seriously slept with her? How does that even happen?”
“Well, when two people take off their clothes…” I started smirking.
“Shut up. I was having sex when you were still wearing underwear with superheroes on them. But how did it happen with you two?”
I couldn’t tell him that I went to her when I was falling apart, because he’d feel terrible about me not being strong. But, I didn’t want to lie. So I told the truth. “She always reminds me of home.”
He got a cheesy grin. “After all this time, after everything you guys went through, it’s still there, huh?”
“It’s just sex, Kellan. And we have only done it once. No commitment. No strings. Just a way to let loose.”
“No. It’s never been just sex between you two. Just to be clear, I always liked you guys together. Erika hated it, but I loved it.”
“Speaking of Erika, let’s not tell her. She’d freak out.”
“Freak out about what?” Erika said, walking back into the room with coffee in her left hand and a textbook in her right. She’d been taking night classes for her master’s degree, and when she wasn’t taking care of Kellan, her head was in a book. Sometimes even when she was taking care of Kellan, her head was still in a book.
“I broke a saucer at your house by accident,” I lied.
She glanced up from her book. “What?!”
“My bad.”
She started questioning me about every detail of the incident with the plate that I didn’t even really break, and Kellan smirked at me, before closing his eyes and waiting to finish his chemotherapy treatment.
***
Thirty-two hours after Kellan had his chemotherapy, he was determined to play a show at a bar. Erika and I both tried to talk him out of it, but he refused, telling us that he couldn’t just give up his dream. A black baseball cap sat on his head every day now, as he tried to hide the proof that he was losing his hair, but I knew better.
We never talked about it, though.