We pull into the driveway at the same time as my parents. Of course, we do. Perfect.
Lily bolts to them, chattering something about the dessert she didn’t choose. Mum beams.
“We’ll take Lily in, darling. She’s exhausted. You two—walk Lucky home.”
“It’s fine, Mum, you don’t?.”
“Oh, don’t you worry about Lily,” she says. “We’ll tuck her in.”
Dad nods, already ushering Lily with a warm hand on her back. “Absolutely. You two go on.”
“Go on…?” I echo cautiously.
Mum gives me a look.
The kind that meansdon’t be thick, Ethan.
“Walk Lucky home,” she says brightly. “Even if she does live ten steps away.”
I feel my jaw work. Lucky’s eyes flick toward me—surprise, then something like amusement.
“I can—” she starts.
“Ethan will do it. He’s a gentleman,” Mum finishes, bulldozing the conversation as always. She pats Lily’s head. “Come along, darling. Let’s get you ready for bed.”
Dad claps me on the shoulder. “We remember young love.”
I feel my entire body combust.
“We’re not—It’s not—We’re hardly—”
I sound like an idiot. My accent is full Cambridge lecture hall at this point.
Lucky tries not to laugh. She’s failing.
“I’ll take the escort,” she says, saving me from my own bloody face catching fire.
And with that, they vanish inside.
Leaving me and Lucky standing beside my truck, under the soft glow of the porch light, the storm-washed air cool around us.
Lucky tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.
“Well,” she murmurs. “Looks like you’re stuck escorting me… all ten steps.”
I should laugh.
Instead, my pulse kicks up, sharp and certain.
Because the distance is nothing.
But the moment?
It feels like the edge of something big.
We walk the ridiculous ten steps between our porches like it’s a mile-long gauntlet.
The night air is scented faintly with pine and lake water. Lucky keeps her hands shoved into the pockets of her leather jacket, shoulders slightly hunched, not from cold—more like anticipation. Or nerves. Or both.
