“Thought you’d want to eat first,” I said, because I couldn’t risk saying the real thing: I want to keep you right here until we run out of breath.
He let out a huff and buried his face against my chest again. I held him for a few more seconds, letting his body heat sink through the denim and cotton to the skin beneath. My hand found his wrist and thumbed the edge of the bracelet, felt the slight pulse fluttering under it.
He was mine, and I didn’t need words to say it. He already knew.
The kitchen noise behind us swelled: Bodean yelling for more eggs, Harlow’s deep laughter shaking the rafters, someone slamming the fridge a little too hard. I knew the second we walked in, the eyes would be on us. Levi would go red, but he’d sit close anyway, shoulders glued to mine, and act like nothing had changed. I liked that about him—the way he never apologized for wanting.
“Ready?” I asked.
He nodded, still pressed to my shirt, then stepped back and grabbed my hand. His palm was clammy with nerves, but his grip was steady.
We went in together, Levi leading the way, and for the first time in years, I let myself feel the pull. It wasn’t gravity, exactly. It was something stronger.
Breakfast at the McKenzie place was less a meal and more an event—a controlled riot of elbows, opinions, and strategically deployed napkins. The kitchen was already at max capacity, every surface burdened with food, condiments, or at least a stray elbow.
The table was long enough to seat a small army, but the benches forced everyone into proximity whether they liked it or not. I’d refinished the top last year, sanding out most of the ancient Sharpie graffiti and burn marks, but the deeper scars remained, evidence of a thousand arguments and five generations of McKenzies.
Levi and I squeezed in on the end, right up against the window. Sunlight streamed through the gingham curtains and painted him gold, picking out every angle of his face and the ghost-fine hairs on his arm. I could smell him, even over the chaos—soap and something citrusy, new from the bottle.
Across the table, Knox and Newt were hunched together over a bowl of fruit, heads so close they may as well have been plotting to overthrow the government. Knox caught my eye and did a quick chin-jut in Levi’s direction, followed by the faintest smirk.
I ignored him.
Ma was on the opposite side, running breakfast like it was a military operation. She kept sending plates down the line, but every time her gaze landed on me and Levi, she got glassy-eyed and fumbled the serving spoon. She dabbed at her nose with a napkin, then shot me a look that hovered between pride and worry.
Pa didn’t say much. He sat at the head of the table, king of his battered domain, a mug of black coffee in one fist and the morning paper in the other. Every so often he grunted approval when someone passed him a dish, but he didn’t look up.
Bo—Baby Bo, even though he was pushing twenty-three—was already on his third helping of eggs. He regarded us with a shit-eating grin, one eyebrow cocked in a way that said, I know a secret and it’s killing me not to say it. I gave him a stare that should’ve shut him up. He grinned harder.
The only open seat left was to my right. As soon as I slid onto the bench, Levi followed. He pressed his thigh against mine, like he’d forgotten there was any other way to sit. It felt good, solid. I dropped my hand to the table and curled my pinky around his, an anchor in the flood of morning noise.
Nobody said anything about the bracelet, not yet. But everyone noticed. The first time Levi reached for the jam, the band flashed in the sunlight, and Bo made a choking noise. Levi went red, but didn’t hide it.
I watched the rest of the family try to act normal, try to make small talk. Harlow described in detail the new foal born overnight. Ma asked if I’d fixed the tractor’s oil leak. Knox and Newt started a debate about the best way to build a fence, voices rising until Pa thumped the table and told them to “let the damn horses build their own if it matters that much.” Levi laughed, quick and sharp, and the sound loosened something in my chest.
Through it all, I kept an eye on him. He kept looking at me, then away, like he was worried he’d get caught wanting more. Each time, I nudged his leg or tapped his shoe under the table, until finally he just leaned into me and stopped pretending.
It wasn’t lost on anyone. Even Pa, under all his bluster, watched us from the corner of his eye.
Toward the end of the meal, Ma set down her fork and cleared her throat. “Quiad,” she said, voice louder than necessary. “You boys have plans for the day?”
I shrugged. “Shop’s quiet. Might take Sunshine for a walk.”
Levi ducked his head, face blooming red at the nickname, but he was grinning.
Bo howled, “Sunshine? Really? You’re never living that down.”
Ma shot him a death glare, but it only egged him on. Harlow cracked up, Newt snickered, and even Knox let a real smile through.
Levi took it in stride. “I don’t mind,” he said, voice steadier than I expected. “Could be worse.”
“Damn right it could,” Pa muttered, then reached for more bacon.
I caught Ma watching us, her eyes going wet again. She smiled, shaky but genuine, and for a second the whole table went quiet.
That was all the blessing I needed.
I loaded my plate, ate my fill, and let myself enjoy the noise for once. Levi’s hand stayed hooked to mine under the table, his thumb rubbing the leather band slow and absent. I didn’t say anything about it, but I felt every brush of his skin.
