Silence drifts between us, full but not heavy. Somewhere down the street, a dog barks once then settles.
I shift my weight carefully, testing the ankle. “You know what I’m thinking?”
“Should I be nervous?”
“Probably.” I stand, slow but steady. “That it’s time I go back to work.”
His head snaps up. “Oakley—”
“Notfor the airline,” I say, realizing too late how my words came across. “I want to finish my degree in Athletic Training. I only had a few courses left, and I already talked with Liam and Dr. Bradley. They put in recommendations with some of their contacts.”
He stares at me, the muscle in his jaw ticking. For a second, I think he’ll argue. Then he exhales through his nose and nods once. “That mean what I think it means?”
“Means I’m staying if you’ll have me.”
“Yeah?”
I smile. “Yeah, baby. I’m not going anywhere.”
Chapter 37
Silas
The morning starts with lists.
Not the kind you write on paper—though I’ve got those, too, taped inside the pantry like battle plans—but the quiet ones I run behind my eyes while the house is still half-asleep.
Front camera battery: green.
Side-yard motion: synced.
Garage keypad: changed.
Aubrey duty: me.
Oakley: first day back at a job—part-time, nothing heavy. Text when she gets there. Text when she leaves.
She’s already at the island in a soft sweater and jeans when I come in from checking the trash cans. No boot. No crutches. It’s not nothing that I don’t flinch at the sight.
“You’re up early,” she says, thumb finding the chip on her coffee mug like it’s a worry stone.
“Habit.” I nudge the sugar toward her, because I know she’ll pretend she doesn’t want it and then add a half spoon. “You good?”
Her eyes cut to my face, searching. “Nervous-good. Not scared-good. Difference matters.”
“Yeah.” I lean, hip to the counter. “You sure you don’t want me to drive you?”
“You’re already taking Aubs.”
“I can do both.”
“You can,” she says, mouth tipping, “but you won’t. Because you hate being late for stuff and you’ll make the world’s weirdest NASCAR pit stop of a goodbye in the gym parking lot.” A giggle slips out as I stare at her. “I’ll be fine.”
There’s no wobble in her voice. I hear the promise she’s making to herself, not to me. That’s new. That’s good.
Aubrey thunders in, hair a blonde storm of crazy. “My sock is lost to the void!”
I catch her around the waist mid-sprint. “It’s under the couch with the treaty you made with your toothbrush.”
