Raleigh Harper / Emily Watkins

"Yes!" It was a surprised yelp of happiness, and the Waters house - so recently only being where Spencer lived, but somehow it'd abruptly become a bustling hub of activity - smelled amazing, and the kitchen - Spencer was out this morning, and it was probably good because his kitchen? Baked goods. Baked goods everywhere, and it was hot as hell with an exhaust fan in the window and there's cookies and a cake and just now, just now Raleigh's pulling bread out of the oven and it's fine. It's not burnt, it's golden brown and when she raps on it with a spoon it sounds just right and, "Thank you god."

The radio's blaring country music, and she's barefoot in one of Spencer's old t-shirts and a pair of cut off jean shorts, her hair pulled up into a messy bun on the top of her head. She got her stitches out three days ago, and she can bake again. Everything, everything, it's coming out perfect, and she's got flour smearing her cheek and the moment someone - anyone - comes in, they're getting food. She's got a pan on the stove that's stewing apples, and dough in the fridge and honestly, right this minute? Raleigh's in heaven.