11. CORA

School.

My stomach twisted with nausea as I made my way down the stairs a week later. The doctor had given me the all-clear to go to school much to my disappointment.

When I entered the kitchen it was to find only Keiran sitting at the table. My eyes darted around, taking in the various dishes.

“I wasn’t sure what you like,” he muttered, standing.

“You cooked?” I breathed, wide-eyed.

He raised an eyebrow. “Yes, you didn’t think I could?”

“No,” I told him honestly. “Dad couldn’t cook. It was always me or Mom that cooked for him.”

Keiran pulled a chair out for me and then took a seat again. Placing a plate down in front of me, he gestured to the other plates.

“Help yourself.”

“Thank you.”

I grabbed a slice of toast and took a small bite. I was too nervous to actually eat. But he went through all the trouble to cook and I wanted to show him that I appreciated it.

“It’s important for a male to know how to take care of his mate which includes cooking.” He took a bite of bacon and slo