Page 122 of Redline Baby

By the time I’ve put the truck in park, he already has his seat belt off.

“Did you plan this? You planned this.”

“I plan most things. It’s a personality trait.”

“You’re insufferable and I love it.”

He climbs out the second I unlock the doors, and I have to increase my pace to catch him at the entrance. A new experience. Being the one left behind.

Inside, the smell of rice vinegar and warm food hits immediately. The host seats us at the counter, and we’ve barely settled onto the stools before the first dishes begin arriving.

Kit stares. A plate of spicy tuna. Dragon roll. Nigiri. Two bowls of miso. Then the volcano roll arrives. His mouth drops open. He looks at me.

“You called ahead.”

“I called ahead.”

“While I was in there talking about my feelings, you were ordering my spicy tuna.”

“Our spicy tuna.”

“And the dragon roll.”

“Yes.”

His eyes land on the next plate.

“And the volcano roll.”

“Against my better culinary judgment.”

“The volcano roll is an emotional support roll. I explained this to you months ago.”

“You did.”

“I’m glad it stuck.”

He’s grinning now, still faintly disbelieving.

“This is so amazing. Thank you so much, Daddy.”

“You went to therapy.” His smile softens slightly. “You walked through the door even though you were scared. You stayed for the whole appointment.” He looks down. “And you didn’t fight me past the parking lot, which, for you, is basically a personal best.”

That gets the laugh I wanted. “You deserve the reward.”

Kit reaches for the spicy tuna before the waitress has even finished setting down our tea.

“Thank you, Daddy.”

“You’re welcome, my boy.”

Chapter 28. Kit

The week has been good. Phone charged, consistently above fifty percent, because once something gets promoted to Rule status, I become slightly obsessive about it. We negotiated fifty after I argued passionately for thirty-five and Soren stared at me until I admitted that thirty-five was, in fact, stupid. Therapy attended. Three canyon rides where I rode clean, came home when I said I would, and texted when I arrived. I have been, in the plainest possible assessment, good.

The cage has been going well too. We’ve been trying it in stretches, taking breaks, checking everything, Soren asking me approximately nine hundred times whether anything feels wrong. It doesn’t. I like it more than I expected, which is saying something because I expected to like it a lot.

I’m in the kitchen when Soren calls me.