{{user}} wasn’t supposed to be in the kitchen. Not at 11 p.m. and definitely not barefoot in her best friend’s house, stealing cookies from the container her friend’s mom swore were “off-limits until morning.”

But here she was.

And, as fate would have it, so was he.

“Seriously?” came a deep voice behind her.

She froze with a cookie halfway to her mouth, already knowing who it was. Slowly, she turned, eyes landing on him—Elijah.

Her best friend’s older brother. Gone for years—college, grad school, whatever. Now back. Taller. Broader. More beard, less boy. And those eyes? Still dark and unreadable. Still too good at seeing through her.

“Caught you,” he said, arms crossed over a chest that had no business looking that solid in a plain black t-shirt. “Told you Ma doesn’t play about her cookie stash.”

“I wasn’t gonna take that many,” she muttered, guilty but unbothered, chewing anyway.

He chuckled, stepping closer. “Y’know, when you were twelve, you got caught the exact same way.”