"Best kind of disaster," Finn says, raising his beer. "To Scout. Making us slightly less pathetic."
"Worst toast ever," I say.
"I'm working with limited material."
"To Scout," Holt says, voice low and warm and something else I can't quite name. He raises his beer, holds my gaze. "Welcome home."
Welcome home.
Not welcome to Coyote Bend.
Not welcome to the shop.
Welcome home.
Like this is it. Like I've arrived at the place I was always supposed to be.
We drink and I have to blink hard because my eyes are burning and I'm not crying at a trailer in the desert over beer and belonging, I'm not, except maybe I am a little bit.
Eventually Finn yawns and announces he's done. "Old man hours," he says, standing. "I'm calling it."
"It's nine-thirty," I point out.
"Ancient. Decrepit. Ready for my nap." He starts collecting empties. "You two heading back?"
Holt glances at me. "You ready?"
"Yeah."
"Sleep well, kids," Finn says, disappearing into his trailer.
"Goodnight, Finn," Holt calls after him.
"Night! Love you both! Platonically! Mostly!"
The door closes and it's just Holt and me standing in the circle of string lights. The desert's quiet around us—cicadas and wind, nothing else competing. It's peaceful in a way that makes my chest ache.
"Come on," Holt says. "Let's get back."
We walk without talking. Not awkward—the easy kind where you don't need to fill every second with words. The night's cool enough now that I'm almost cold in my tank top, and the stars are so bright they cast actual shadows across the dirt road.
"Today was good," I say finally. "Meeting everyone. Seeing the town. This. All of it."
He glances over. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." I hesitate. "Maeve told me. About you and Finn being in the military."
His stride doesn't break but I feel him go aware. Not defensive. Conscious. "That bother you?"
"No. Why would it?" I watch my feet on the uneven ground. "She said it wasn't her story to tell, so I'm not asking for details. Just... acknowledging that I heard. That I know."
"It's not a secret." He's quiet for a moment. "Not something I lead with. Hi, I'm Holt, I fix cars and I'm a veteran. Doesn't come up much."
"Does it bother you that she mentioned it?"
"No." He seems to consider this. "It's part of who I am. Who we are. Finn and I wouldn't be here without it. Wouldn't have the shop, wouldn't have—" He stops. "It's not a secret. Just not the first thing I tell people."
"Fair enough."
