I can’t help it, that makes me laugh. He shakes his head, but his shoulders ease.
“You’re doing better than you think,” I say. “Rose is happy, healthy. The gym’s had a good start. You’re allowed to be tired. You’ve got a lot on your plate.”
“I’m more than tired.” He pauses, chewing his lip while he weighs his next words. “I’m angry, not with Rose, obviously. But with Lucy, this whole situation. I hate that she treats Rose as optional; it’s not fair to her. She never seems to actually want to spend time with her. Plus, we agreed we’d split the cost ofchildcare, but she’s not even giving a third.” He rolls his head against the back of the sofa. He looks exhausted all of a sudden.
That irritates me. Aiden is already the primary parent, I know he pays for all of Rose’s food and clothes. Anchor Strength may not be on Main, but it’s off the entrance to Willowrun with a massive parking lot to the back, so rent is high.
“You’re allowed to be angry, too. You want the best for Rose. It's shitty that Lucy isn't pulling her weight. I'm sorry, man.”
He doesn’t argue.
“It’s moments like this I really miss my parents. Obviously, I always miss them. But when Lucy acts like this, I think about how much love and attention my parents would have given Rose.” I can hear the grief in his voice, even years after their deaths. My own pain surges as I remember them, so full of love, enough to give to the boy Aiden brought home from school one day. I wish I came back to visit more. I should have called them regularly. I don’t hold on to much regret in life, but not staying better connected with them eats at me.
Sometimes now, when I see Gabe having a bad day, I wonder if I’d been here more, could I have protected him? It’s a ridiculous thought, I know. What would I have done exactly?
I can’t change what happened, but I can make damn sure he never doubts he’s safe with me.
“I miss them too,” I say around the lump in my throat. “They’d have been crazy about Rose. Spending every second they could with her.” Aiden gives me a sad smile, and we go back to watching the game.
Another wave of voices climbs up the stairs. Abbie’s bright giggle, a dramatic string of vowels that has to be Ciarán, and then Gabe’s laugh—a little more reserved, soft and deep in its acoustic.
Aiden shakes his head, eyes on the screen. “He can’t just say he liked a book. He has to stage a one-man show. Does he really have to be so fucking loud?”
“Seriously, man, why does he bother you so much?” I sigh. Yeah, Ciarán can be loud and a bit bratty, but he’s a great guy, it’s easy to see. He’d do anything for his friends, and he’s well-liked in the community. Aiden seems to be the only person in town to have an issue with him.
“Like I said, he’s loud,” he counters, but it lacks conviction.
“I was always loud growing up, never seemed to bother you,” I tell him pointedly.
He grunts and glares at me, which is Aiden for ‘whose side are you on?’ We watch two breakaways and a missed shot. We chat about getting the gym’s logo on new hoodies and other random shit. It’s easy, familiar, the kind of back-and-forth that comes from years of friendship.
Below us, book club hits a crescendo. Someone groans dramatically, Abbie shouts, “You can’t defend that scene!” and Gabe’s voice comes up, I hear the smile in it, “I… yeah, okay, fair.” Then they all devolve into loud giggles. I see Aiden smiling from the corner of my eye.
I get that feeling again, the one that’s been happening the longer I’m back in Willowrun—like I’ve finally found what I’ve been searching for. I like this life. The smallness of it, in a good way. I like knowing that at the end of each day, it’ll be me and Gabe up here, sharing the quiet.
Footsteps clatter on the stairs. A second later, the door opens with a bang, causing me and Aiden to turn our heads.
Abbie floats in first, cheeks pink from wine. “Aw man, sports instead of smut,” she whines, dropping onto the armchair. “Why would you watch that when you could just read a hockey romance?” She asks the question so seriously, Aiden runs his hand over his face and chuckles in lieu of responding.
Gabe follows her, and the room warms. He’s got color high on his cheeks, and his eyes look soft. He gives me that small, private smile that says he’s happy to see me. Happy I'm here. It's everything I've always dreamed of.
Then Ciarán arrives. Silk shirt halfway off his shoulder, his eyeliner’s smudged, and he looks very pleased with himself for reasons unknown.
“Your couch,” he announces, pointing at it, “is calling my name.”
Before Aiden can move or respond, Ciarán tips sideways and lands between us, head on Aiden’s bicep like it’s totally normal behavior for them. “Mmm. How can they be so big and hard but still so cozy,” he says on a sigh, eyes closing immediately.
Aiden goes stock-still. Gabe shuffles up behind them on the sofa, hand on Ciarán’s shoulder. “He doesn’t usually drink more than a glass. He’s… a bit of a lightweight.”
“He didn’t even finish that second glass of wine.” Abbie giggles.
Ciarán lifts a hand like he’s going to object, then pats Aiden’s chest once and gives up, leaving his hand pressed there.
I want to laugh at how sloppy he seems after not even two drinks, but the guy is only a few inches above five feet, so I suppose it tracks. We can’t let him go home like this, though; he’s clearly in no position to take care of himself. Gabe would worry about him all night, and I would too if I’m being honest.
“Why doesn’t he crash here tonight?” I suggest. “We’ll keep an eye on him. He can stay in my room, and I’ll take the couch.”
Gabe looks at me, relief crossing his face. “Thank you,” he breathes, and I feel that glow all the way through me. It’s a small thing, and it’s not small at all. His friends are important to him, so now they’re important to me.
