And I can’t shake the feeling that this isn’t about lunch at all.
Atlas unlocks his SUV with one tap, holding the passenger door open like he’s done it a thousand times.Kael waits until I’m seated before closing it.Finn climbs in beside me and buckles up without breaking eye contact.
“You like Italian?”he asks suddenly, too bright.
“I—yeah?”
“Good.Because we’re getting Italian.”His smile is big enough to be suspicious.
I narrow my eyes.“What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” Finn says too fast.
Atlas starts the car.Kael twists in the passenger seat to look at me.“We’ll talk after we eat.”
There it is again:after.
I swallow and nod, even though my skin prickles with dread.
Fine.Lunch first.Heavy second.
I don’t know if that’s kindness or torture, but I take the gift of time anyway.
***
The restaurant Finnbrings us to is warm and bustling, the air thick with garlic and herbs and fresh bread.A place that smells like normal life, like families celebrating nothing special, like first dates and weekday lunches.
The kind of place I haven’t let myself sit in for too long.
Kael chooses a corner booth against the far wall.He doesn’t say why.He doesn’t need to.From there he can see the door, the kitchen entrance, the bathroom hall, and the street.
Atlas sits next to him.Finn and I slide into the opposite side, but Finn sits so close our thighs touch.I don’t pull away.
A server drops menus and water glasses.Finn immediately hides behind his, asking random questions like he’s auditioning for the role of Human Distraction.
“Do you like gnocchi?You look like a gnocchi girl.Or maybe penne?People who like penne usually like order and structure—are you a structure person, Wren?”
I arch a brow.“Are you...okay?”
He straightens his posture.“I’m perfect.”
Atlas mutters, “You’re loud.”
Finn whispers, “I’m coping.”
Kael doesn’t look up from the menu.“Quiet coping.”
Finn mutters something that definitely includes a curse.
I laugh despite myself.
And that’s when their shoulders all drop a fraction.
Because they’re trying to keep me breathing.
Trying to fill the space with brightness before they drop the truth.
Trying to hold me together just a little longer.
