“We’re doing it,” she murmurs, like it’s a secret we get to keep. “We’re actually doing it.”
“Yeah,” I say into her hair. “We are.”
For a while, that’s enough. The house breathes. The little red dots on the sensors blink their even language. Somewhere outside, a car passes slow and keeps going.
We stand there, not braced against a storm, not pretending there never was one. Just…standing. Together. It’s a differentkind of vow than the ones I’ve made lately—quieter, less cinematic. The kind that lasts because you make it again the next day, and the next.
No one cross our line.
That feels like the right amount of control.
Chapter 38
Silas
Traffic on Steele Valley Road is backed up worse than usual.
The wipers thump a steady rhythm. I glance at the dashboard clock, then force myself to stop checking the rearview mirror every thirty seconds. Car pickup lines are always the same drill—merge, inch forward, signal over, wait—and I'm getting better at not looking for threats that aren't there.
I'm picking Aubrey up from a youth hockey fun day that Rooker found for her, and judging by the text she sent an hour ago (three exclamation points and a hockey stick emoji), it went well.
She spots me through the front window and waves both arms like she's trying to flag down a helicopter. By the time I pull up and open the door, she's already halfway into the seat, breathless, her gear bag zipper tangled with what looks like friendship bracelets.
"Did you bring snacks?"
"Did you have fun?"
"The best time. Coach Kaylee is awesome and said I can drop in whenever someone can get me there. She emailed you thepractice schedule." She pauses just long enough to catch her breath. "So...snacks?"
I laugh. Can't blame her for being hungry after a full day on the ice. "Fruit slices and oatmeal raisin cookies," I say, handing her the bag once she's buckled in. "What's the deal?"
"Fruit first or I'll eat all the cookies," she says, already pulling out an apple slice.
"Smart."
On the way out of the lot, my phone buzzes in the console.
My Girl: One more hour.
Silas: Want a ride, or you driving?
My Girl: I'm good. Meet at home.
Silas: Copy.
I feel myself relax at that simple exchange. It's stupid how much better a basic text can make me feel, but I'll take it. I focus on the road and try not to rear-end the minivan in front of me that's already decked out with reindeer antlers.
"Bubba?"
"Yeah?"
"They know it's only October, right?"
I laugh because I was literally just thinking the same thing. "It's never too early for Christmas spirit."
She snorts. "And y'all say I'm the dramatic one." Then, quieter: "Do you think Kate would take me to some practices when you can't?"
That hits me harder than I expect. She's been asking off and on, but I think today cemented how serious she is about hockey. "Yeah, little bit. We'll figure something out."
