Chapter 50: Bake, not roast

The last time I looked in a breadbasket, I found a pound of weed – courtesy of my mom's new boyfriend. Orange juice was only ever in the fridge when mom planned on drinking screw drivers. And pop tarts were a staple.

But the Dawson household was very different. Rainbows and butterflies and sourdough bread in their breadbasket. I jest, but the food was really good here. Beside their breadbasket was a bowl overflowing with fresh fruit. Their fridge was packed with cheese, greens, protein, salads, milk, sodas, juices, water-

"Everything ok, Millie?" Luke asked me from behind the countertop. His arms were leaning against the marble surface as he watched me. He was in a t-shirt and the fabric cut off just around the level of his biceps. I'd opened the fridge five times now, gaping at it each time.

"Look! Avocado yogurt," I pointed.