I wiped down the counter with slow, even strokes, watching sunlight filter through the freshly washed windows and pool across the checkered floor. Mason’s Diner looked alive again. Still missing its customers, still quiet without the sounds of conversation and clinking silverware, but it was getting there.
Behind me, Mom stood on a step stool, stretching to pin up a new chalkboard sign above the coffee station. Her reading glasses were slipping down her nose. “Do you think the lettering is too small?” she asked, squinting.
I stepped back and tilted my head. “You’re asking the guy with the worst handwriting ever?”
She chuckled. “Fair point. Maybe Kira can touch it up. She’s got the eye.”
There it was again—her name, showing up like muscle memory in my mom’s sentences. Like she’d never really left.
“I can fix it,” a new voice called from behind me.
Great. Liam’s here.
It’d been over a year since I’d last spoken to my little brother, but I’d never forget the sound of his voice. I turned over myshoulder and there he was, standing by the door, duffel bag in hand.
He looked older than the last time I saw him. Less boy, more man. His jaw was sharper, shadowed with scruff he hadn’t bothered to shave. The sleeves of his hoodie were pushed to his elbows, exposing tanned forearms and a faint tan line from a watch he probably forgot at college. But his eyes—still a stormy, steel blue like Dad’s—had a guarded edge now.
“Liam!” Mom beamed, hurrying off the stool. “You didn’t tell me you were coming in today.”
He shrugged, but a flicker of a smile ghosted across his face as she wrapped him in a hug. “Figured I’d surprise you.”
“You sure did.” She stepped back and took his face in her hands like she needed to double-check he was real. “God, look at you. My college boy.”
“I’ve only been gone two months,” he muttered, embarrassed.
Still, she glowed like it’d been years.
Liam’s eyes flicked toward me. “Hey.”
I nodded. “Hey.”
That was it. One syllable each.
Once upon a time, we’d traded comic books and inside jokes, shot hoops in the alley behind the diner until Mom called us in for dinner. Now, silence stretched in the space where familiarity used to live.
Mom either didn’t notice or chose to ignore the tension, already bustling back behind the counter. “You hungry? There’s leftover pie in the fridge.”
“I could eat,” Liam said.
He dropped his bag by the corner booth, then sank into the seat without a word.
The diner might’ve been coming back to life, but clearly, some things still needed fixing.
“Is Carter still dropping by today?” Liam asked as he tore into the slice of pie with his fork.
Mom answered, “Yes, he should be here any minute.”
I furrowed my brow. “Who the hell is Carter?”
“The lawyer who helped Mom get the insurance payout last year.” Liam glared at me as if to sayyou would have known this if you were here.
I had heard the story, though. Everything had fallen apart after the fire, and dealing with the insurance company was no exception. Claim denial after claim denial after claim denial. At a certain point, Mom and Dad gave up.
Until a year ago, when a new spark ignited in Mom. She hired a law firm to look at the case again, and they fought for a fair settlement. Eventually, the money came through, which Mom was able to use to put back into the diner.
“It’s just a quick check-in,” Mom explained. “To make sure everything is going well.”
“That’s nice of him,” I said hesitantly.
