Alex was quiet for a moment, considering. “The truth is that seeing you break down yesterday scared me, but not because I wanted to run. Because I realized how much I care about you and how out of my depth I felt. How out of your depth you must feel every day.”
I rubbed the back of my neck. “You sure you can handle this getting more complicated?”
“Finn, we were complicated weeks ago. This is just another thing to figure out. You’re dealing with it responsibly. I’d be more worried if you were brushing things off. When are we expected at dinner?”
“Six,” I glanced at the clock—just after five. “I should probably shower.”
“Maybe one day you’ll do that before you fall asleep in our bed,” she teased gently, standing up. “I need to call my mom. I think I’ve tortured her enough.”
“Alex,” I grabbed her hand. “Thank you for… hell… being terrifyingly cool about this whole thing.”
“I’m anything but cool about it, Walker. I think I’ve been ‘cool’ about things exactly twice in my lifetime.” She squeezed my hand, “but I’m not going anywhere.”
“Then thank you for staying. For being willing to talk to Elena. For not running when this got real.”
“You don’t have to thank me for loving you, Finn.”
The scent of roasted chicken filled the main house as I opened the door, Alex’s hand still in mine from our walk over—a steady presence that helped keep my pulse from running high. The kitchen buzzed with the usual family dinner prep energy. Momat the stove, Elowyn preparing a salad at the island, and the kids fighting over which side of the plate the forks should go as they set the table.
“There you are,” Mom looked up as we came through the door, offering Alex a warm smile. “Perfect timing. How did work go today, sweetheart?”
“Great, thank you. Being able to work in Nolan’s office is a real blessing.”
“He won’t say it, but he appreciates the company more than he lets on.”
Alex squeezed my hand and let go, moving toward the counter where serving dishes waited. “What can I do to help?”
“You can carry the potatoes to the dining room,” Mom gestured toward a steaming bowl. “Finn, grab the rolls.”
We fell into the familiar choreography of getting dinner on the table. Dad appeared from his office, Luke from wherever he’d been working outside, everyone converging on tradition.
“Where’s Móraí?” I asked, noting the empty chair at one end of the table.
“Resting,” Mom squeezed my arm. “Had a long day and decided to eat in her room tonight. The weather affects her too these days. She sends her love to you both.”
We settled into our usual spots—Alex beside me, Luke and Elowyn across, with the kids scattered between us all and my folks at the head.
“Fence lines seem to be holding well after yesterday’s rain,” Dad cut into his chicken. “If it hadn’t been for you working to get that north pasture repaired, Finn, we’d likely be chasing down cattle today.”
My chest warmed at the praise as Alex squeezed my leg.
“Shouldn’t need any more repairs this season,” Luke added.
“Belle, tell Alex about your art camp project,” Mom suggested.
Belle launched into an enthusiastic description of hersummer project—something involving mixed media and environmental themes that required her to use her hands as much as her voice to explain.
Under the table, Alex’s hand found mine, fingers threading together with gentle pressure that kept my pulse steady even when Jack’s fork clattered against his plate loud enough to make me flinch.
“I love your approach,” Alex was saying to Belle. “It wouldn’t be hard to incorporate some stop-motion with your sculptures.”
Belle’s eyes lit up. “Could you show me how?”
“Absolutely.”
Conversation flowed around the table—Belle’s art projects, Jack’s soccer camp, business operations, more July Fourth plans.
I couldn’t help checking my stress levels throughout dinner—worried that something might set off another episode. But surrounded by family, with Alex next to me, and the familiar comfort of Mom’s cooking, everything stayed manageable.
