CHAPTER ONE TORAIN
The scent of vanilla and cinnamon hit me before I opened the door. Not her usual scent—this was stronger, and layered with butter and sugar. Carissa found peace in throwing together precise ingredients to produce exact, delicious results. But walking in to those scents before we even sat down to dinner meant something had gone wrong.
I found her in the kitchen, surrounded by cooling racks of cookies. Her hair had mostly escaped its usual severe bun, wisps clinging to her flushed face as she aggressively creamed butter and sugar.