She rolls her eyes and swats at him with a spatula. “Oh, hush, you. I didn’t hear you complaining all weekend.”
He leaps back, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “That’s because I’m finally coming out of my food coma.”
“Someone’s gotta make sure you don’t starve on the road,” she shoots back.
For a moment, the tension breaks.
Her laugh brightens the room like sunlight cutting through dark clouds overhead.
I feel it tug at something deep in me, and before I can stop it my own smile starts to form.
Just a small one, but real.
Relief pools in my chest seeing her like this, eyes bright, cheeks flushed from the heat of the stove.
Waking up this morning to find her elbow-deep in pancake batter with that deep scowl on her face…it had twisted something in me.
I wanted to fix it, say something stupid and lighthearted just to make her smile again, but the truth was I didn’t know how.
Now, though, watching her laugh, watching the way the corners of her eyes crinkle and the tension finally bleed from her shoulders, it’s like I can breathe again.
My mouth parts as the wordswe’ll be back soonnearly cross my tongue.
The words hover at the back of my throat, bitter and heavy, and I swallow them down before they can turn into a lie.
She doesn’t deserve that.
Not the false hope that the three of us will come back here and sit around the same table with her like nothing’s changed.
Everythinghaschanged.
This weekend has been more than just a whirlwind. Something in me has been altered in a way that can’t be undone no matter how much I might wish otherwise.
The things we said, the things we did, there’s no pretending we can just walk away and just slip back into the lives we had beforehand.
Then the sound of footsteps draws my attention.
Grant steps into the kitchen, his jacket slung over his shoulders, his hair still mussed from sleep.
He looks softer like this, less like the man who always has a plan and someone more human.
I can tell by the way his gaze lingers on Noelle that he’s feeling the same, that he’s caught between wanting to stay and knowing he can’t.
He glances at us and for a heartbeat the silence stretches.
I can feel the clock ticking between us, and when the time comes to leave he’ll struggle with that too.
At least Dean and I aren’t alone in this.
Eventually, Noelle ties up the bag and hands it over, a small sigh leaving her in the process.
We walk to the front of the house and over to the front door where Richard’s already waiting.
“You boys drive back safe, now.” He claps me hard on the shoulder, doing the same for Dean and Grant as they pass too.
I nod, forcing myself not to look over at Noelle one last time. “Thanks. We’ll text you when we make it. Hopefully without a trip to the hospital first.”
“Hey now,” Dean protests. “You weren’t saying jack shit about my driving last time when you got to take a nap in the backseat.”
