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He ate his own spoonful, his moan matching mine. “Whoa.”

“You made the hell out of this soup.”ThatI had no trouble admitting.

“I did. I made soup. I’m going to have to save some for Alicia. She didn’t have any faith in me.”

“I will never doubt your soup-makin’ skills again.”

We ate in silence…mostly. There were a lot of disturbing slurping and scarfing noises coming from us both. Normally, I tried to be delicate and ladylike—a habit I’d picked up as a chubby kid who was picked on at school during lunch, no matter how healthy I ate—but I already knew what Santiago thought of me, and I didn’t really care anymore.

When our bowls were licked clean, he stood and went to grab mine. I laid my hand on his wrist, and his eyes flashed to mine. No matter what had happened in our past, Santiago had come through for me today, and I needed him to know it hadn’t gone unnoticed.

“I’ll try not to be so prickly, for the sake of workin’ together,” I said. “I really do appreciate you lettin’ me stay here...and the soup.”

His eyes closed for a beat. “Anything Maeve. Anything you need, tell me. And be prickly all you need to be. I can take it.”