“He is,” Olivia agrees, studying me. “Most days. When he’s not destroying the house or trying to eat rocks.”
Jake leans forward, coffee mug between his hands. “So, Jericho. What’s your story? Jonah says you keep to yourself.”
I shrug, returning Jake’s steady gaze. “Not much to tell.”
“Oh, I doubt that,” Jake says with a knowing smile that makes me wonder exactly what Jonah has shared with him.
“Jericho’s a man of few words,” Nora interjects, sliding back onto the stool beside me. Her thigh brushes mine, and I feel the warmth through my jeans.
“Reminds me of your grandfather,” Moon says, eyeing me. “He’d go days without speaking, then suddenly recite poetry in the middle of dinner.”
Nora’s eyes widen. “You never told me that about Grandpa.”
“You never asked,” Moon replies with a wink. “Some men save their words for when they matter.”
I feel Nora’s eyes on me, but I keep my attention on my coffee. Jake is still watching me, and I can feel him trying to piece me together like a puzzle.
“You’re from where again?” he asks casually. Too casually.
“Around,” I answer, matching his tone.
Olivia snorts. “God, he’s just like you used to be,” she tells Jake. “All mysterious and broody.”
“I was never broody,” Jake protests.
“You were the definition of broody,” Nora laughs. “Remember when you wouldn’t tell anyone why you came to town? You’d bark at anyone who approached you on the street.”
Jake runs a hand through his hair, looking sheepish. “That was different.”
“How?” Nora challenges, leaning forward.
“I had my reasons,” Jake says, exchanging a meaningful glance with his wife.
“And maybe Jericho has his,” Olivia points out, adjusting the sleeping Brodie in her arms.
I take a long sip of coffee, grateful for the momentary distraction. The diner feels smaller suddenly, with all these eyes on me, probing for pieces of a past I’ve carefully locked away.
“I’m just a guy who fixes things,” I say finally, keeping my voice even. “Driveways, registers, whatever needs it.”
“Very humble,” Moon says, patting my arm. “I like that in a young man.”
“He’s anything but a young man,” Cheryl mutters, making Karina snort coffee through her nose. She grabs a towel and starts dabbing it on her front, drawing everyone’s attention to her.
The conversation shifts, thankfully, to Jake and Olivia’s travels, to Moon’s complaints about the weather, and eventuallyto Brodie’s latest milestones. This is where they lose me because I have zero idea what they’re talking about.
I listen more than I speak, watching how Nora lights up around them, how she laughs easier, fuller. Her hand occasionally brushes mine under the counter, a secret touch that sends warmth through my fingers.
I watch them interact, trying to ignore the growing knot in my stomach. These people have history. Years of it, woven tight like one of those fancy quilts Moon probably has stashed somewhere. And I’m the loose thread, hanging off the edge. They freely share their past while I hide mine under a hundred layers. Can I ever become a part ofthiswithout sharing who I was? Because who I was is not me anymore, life made sure of it, but the past seems to matter to them.
I must have been staring at them too hard because I finally see Jake watching me with a raised eyebrow. There’s something knowing in his look—like he sees more than I want him to.
“So,” Jake says, turning to me again, “you planning to stick around Big Love for a while?”
The question lands heavier than it should. Nora’s hand freezes on her mug, and I feel her go still beside me. Moon’s eyes narrow slightly, and even Cheryl looks up from her phone.
“Yeah,” I say, surprised by how easily the word comes out. “I am.”
Something in Nora’s posture relaxes, and I catch the small smile playing at the corner of her mouth.
