She wasn’t the best at baking. But that wasn’t what mattered, was it? It was fun, and her treats were made with love and effort. Maybe they weren’t that tasty (she was no Naomi, okay?) or put together, but it was the thought that counted. Chelsea had to keep telling herself that.
Chocolate chip cookies were universal.
Her mother had a whole collection of cookie tins she distributed during Christmas time. Chelsea had some spare, stored away in a cabinet. It took some searching, lots of rummaging, but she’d found it. Packed it full. She hoped Tristen was at the firehouse.
Upon arrival, Chelsea could see a female firefighter working on the rig. Dark hair, perfect eyebrows. The woman had been there the week before, when Chelsea had blindly (sleep-deprived) set her kitchen alight. They’d met a few times before around town. Val loved interacting with Jack. He loved it, too--his fingers always finding their way around her ponytail. “Valeria!” The cookie tin in one hand, the other pushing Jack’s stroller onto the floor of the firehouse. Chelsea quickly swept the place, looking for the man that had taken Jack in his arms the night of the fire. When she couldn’t find him amongst the other men on the floor, Chelsea approached Val and offered up the tin of cookies.
“Thank you so much for last week. I... I kind of made these? Here--” Despite her entrance, Chelsea felt the blush creep up her neck. Started to feel shy. “These are for you. And everybody else that came to mine and Jack’s rescue. It’s not really a repayment, I mean... I’m sure they’re not very good, but-- have a taste.”
