Start Over

The old wool jacket went back on its hanger with a soft thump.

Logan stood in the hallway a second longer than he meant to. The closet smelled like cedar and dust and the lemon cleaner Natalie liked to use on Saturdays. His wedding ring turned once around his finger.

In the kitchen, Sophie had pushed a baking sheet onto a cooling rack and was staring at it like it had insulted her first.

He came to the island. One tray of cookies had gone brown on the edges and black in the middle. A few were shaped like uneven moons. The air held butter, sugar, and a burnt note that sat in the back of his throat.

Sophie hooked one sneaker under the stool rung. “Don’t do the polite face.”

“I wasn’t planning to.”

She slid a cookie across the counter with the tip of a knife. “This one is the worst. Take it.”

He broke off a corner. It snapped hard. Bitter followed the sweetness.

He chewed, then swallowed.

“It tastes burned,” he said.

Sophie nodded once, waiting for the lie.

“It is burned,” he said again.

Her mouth twitched. “Okay. Good. So we know.”

Logan reached for the flour sack and dragged it closer. He set it beside the bowl. “Show me the recipe.”

She wiped her hands on a dish towel and pulled a phone from her pocket, thumb already moving. On the screen, notes were open in a slanted list of measurements and one angry line in all caps: DO NOT LEAVE AT 400 IF TIMER DINGS EARLY.

He looked at that, then at the tray. “We start over.”

“You’re not even going to pretend these are fine?”

“No.”

She let out a breath that sounded like a laugh trying not to be one. “Mom would have said you’re being rude.”

“Your mom would have made a second batch.”

Sophie’s fingers tightened on the towel. Then she reached for the flour bag and tipped it toward the bowl.

“Okay,” she said. “But this time you do the egg.”

Logan cracked it against the rim. Shell bit his thumb. Sophie pointed to the sink.

“Careful,” she said. “You’re the chairman now. Tragic if you get yolk on your shirt.”

He glanced at the tray, then at her. “That’s probably the smallest risk in the house.”

She snorted and shoved the spatula into his hand.

Together, they began again.