Zoe POV

The kitchen smells like butter and sugar.

I stand at the counter, flour dusted across my hands as I measure ingredients. Mrs. Brant—Aunt Miles—has been so good to me these past weeks. Taking care of me. Making sure I rest. Never once making me feel like a burden.

'I should do something to thank her.'

Baking feels right. Simple. Concrete.

I'm reaching for the mixing bowl when the door swings open.

"Zoe!" Jacob's voice fills the kitchen. "What ...