Silence stretches between us all. No one moves. I sigh, dragging a hand down my face. “Fine. I’ll cook.”
Mac lights up, that smile slaying me on the spot. “You will?”
I squint at her. “You wound me.”
“Only slightly.”
I’m already moving, sleeves pushed up, scanning the ingredients. “I’ll make that garlic and chili pasta I used to do at the house.”
Trey lets out a dramatic moan, flopping across a stool. “That one makes me feel things.”
Sam elbows him. “The pasta or Logan?”
“Both.”
I’m plating pasta when I hear Trey’s voice behind me.
“Wait… when the hell did that happen?”
I glance over my shoulder just in time to see all three of them staring at Mac like she’s grown a second head. She pauses mid-step, plate in hand, blinking at them like they’ve lost it.
“What?” she asks, glancing down at herself.
“Your hair,” Sam says, voice quiet but full of something that almost sounds like awe. “You’re blonde.”
Chace takes a slow step forward, his eyes scanning her like he’s seeing a ghost in the best possible way. “Holy shit… It’s been years since you looked like this.”
Trey whistles low, shaking his head. “You look just like her.”
Mac’s smile falters for a second. Just a second. But I catch it—because I’m watching her like I always do. The way her throat bobs. The way her fingers tighten just slightly around the plate.
“She does,” Sam adds, softer now. “Like your mom.”
Chace nods. “And Braden. It’s like… you’re really back.”
The silence that settles isn’t awkward. It’s thick with meaning. Shared memories. Ghosts we all still carry.
Mac clears her throat and shrugs one shoulder, forcing a small smile. “Figured it was time.”
I step in before the mood dips too far, nudging her with my hip as I slide the last plate onto the island. “You’re beautiful, angel. No matter the shade.”
She meets my gaze, that quiet storm in her eyes flickering just long enough to make my chest ache.
And then Trey, bless him, breaks the tension like only he can.
“I mean, if we’re going for nostalgic makeovers, I could frost my tips again.”
Sam groans. “Don’t. I still have nightmares.”
Chace grins, looping an arm around Mac’s shoulder. “Seriously though… it suits you. It really does.”
And just like that, the weight lifts. Laughter stirs again. Plates hit the counter. And my girl—blonde and radiant and entirely herself—stands right in the middle of it all.
Dinner’s nearly done when Trey winces, rubbing his chest.
“Man,” he mutters, glaring at Sam. “You almost ripped out my nipple ring earlier. The girls love that damn thing.”
Mac snorts into her water. “Let me guess… you lost a bet to my brother, too?”
