Kiss & Make Up

I poured milk into the battered bottle that should have retired when Ash turned three. The plastic had yellowed, the rubber nipple had gone pale, and I’d lost count of how many shiny replacements I’d tried to sneak in. Same outcome every time, violent rejection. The kid could handle an IV, but not giving up his beloved bottle. Life’s little ironies.

And yes, the cocoa powder was safe. Nut-free, obviously. I’d read the label with more scrutiny than the FDA. If Zane knew I’d spent half an hour checking for “processed in a facility that also handles nuts” fine print, he’d probably laugh and call me paranoid. Or worse, he’d rent his own lab just to prove his obsession could outprice my anxiety.

I walked back to Ash’s room. The dinosaur-shaped nightlight cast a faint green glow across the walls. Zane sat on the edge of the bed, a body too large for a room plastered with cartoon posters. His shirt sleeves were rolled, his tie already yanked off by me earlier, and now his voice filled the ai