He nods immediately. No argument. No excuses. Just acceptance.
“Okay,” he says. “I’m sorry.”
I step into the kitchen and grab two napkins. “But I do appreciate dinner because I’m fucking starving.”
That earns me a grin.
We eat straight out of the box, sitting on opposite sides of the counter like we did growing up. Pepperoni grease on our fingers. Beer bottles sweating onto the granite.
“So,” he says, “internship.”
I smile despite myself. “It’s intimidating. Exciting. Susan’s incredible. And terrifying.”
He laughs. “That tracks.”
We talk about Mom and Dad, about how weird it is that we’re both living our dream lives now. He tells me about the pressure this season, about how the team feels solid, how close they are to something big.
“You’re good out there,” I tell him. “You always have been.”
His expression softens. “Means more hearing it from you.”
We’re laughing about some stupid story from our childhood when my phone rings on the counter.
Susan.
I straighten instantly. “Hold that thought.”
I swipe to answer. “Hello?”
“Amelia,” she says, her voice gentle but serious. “I just got word that Wilder’s father passed away.”
My chest tightens.
“He’s going to need to talk,” she continues, “and he’s not going to want to. Do you think you’re ready for something like this?”
My heart breaks for him, but I don’t let it show in my voice.
“Of course I am,” I say evenly. “I’ll see you first thing in the morning.”
“Be prepared for a fight.”
I grin. “I always am.”
I hang up and look at Kamden.
“Wilder’s father passed away.”
He’s on his feet instantly. “Fuck.”
“What?” I ask as he grabs his jacket.
“He’s going to drink himself stupid,” Kamden mutters. “I need to go.”
He crosses the room, kisses my forehead, and is out the door before I can say anything else.
I stare at the closed door for a moment, my curiosity outweighing any worry.
Tomorrow morning is going to be interesting.
