She steals food from all of us—my taco, Milton’s fries, Korbin’s last mac bite.
“Seriously?” Korbin mutters.
She signs thank you directly at him.
He looks away too fast.
We share dessert—one sundae “because she’s not hungry”—and then she eats half of it.
At one point she taps my wrist to offer me a spoonful, and I swear my heart melts into the damn plastic cup. Milton types dramatically:
Milton: Get a room.
She elbows him. He grins like an idiot.
The wind catches our empty paper cup, and Korbin snatches it mid-air without thinking. She signs thank you again—slow, soft, eyes on him.
His jaw clenches and his throat bobs.
Another shift.
The night feels warm and full and new—like something is forming between all of us, quiet and steady, like a pulse syncing.
When we finally pack up, none of us wants to leave. But the sky is dark, and the families with kids have gone. We walk back to the truck. This time, she slides into the middle of the bench seat between Milton and me. Korbin sits behind us, leaning forward enough that his knee brushes the back of her seat.
She seems more relaxed than she has been all evening. Her shoulders are loose. Her breathing deeper.
When we reach her porch, she hesitates before unlocking the door. I catch her hand lightly. She turns. Her cheeks are pink from the cold, her eyes soft with something that feels dangerously close to hope.
I sign, You look beautiful tonight.
It’s clumsy. A little crooked. But she gets it. She blushes—and rises onto her toes to kiss me. Soft. Sweet. Lingering.
Her hand curls into my shirt. My hand finds her waist. The world narrows to her lips and her breath and the quiet exhale she gives when I kiss her back.
Beside us, Milton looks away discreetly with a half-smile.
Korbin’s jaw tightens with something like frustration, something like hunger, something likeGod help me, I want her too.
I’m about to ask if she wants us to walk her inside when the front door bursts open. Benton explodes out of the house like a goddamn storm. His face is twisted with fury. His hands fly in jagged, violent signs. His voice rises even though she can’t hear it.
“You just don’t learn. Are you out of your mind? You embarrassed me! You humiliated the family and now you are going out with—THEM!”
Bayleigh flinches as though every word is a slap. Her shoulders sag, and instantly her eyes fill with tears.
Before I can move, Milton steps in front of her, body shielding hers completely, posture sharp and protective. Korbin moves next, deadly quiet, jaw locked, stance wide like he’s ready to break someone. I step in front of Benton, blocking his view of her entirely. My hands move before I can think:
ENOUGH!
Benton stands there, jaw clenched, hands poised ready to sign. Bayleigh's tears fall silently. Milton cups her face, thumbs brushing her cheeks.
“No,” he mouths. “You don’t deserve this.”
Then her mother appears behind Benton, scolding him with signs so sharp even Korbin winces. Bayleigh steps forward, shaking and signing so rapidly, I can’t keep up, but her mom translates for us.
I’m done. I’m not staying here tonight. You’re being an ass. I’m leaving.
Her mom looks heartbroken as she continues to scold her son, reminding him that Bayleigh's a grown woman who can make her own choices.
