By the time Theo wiggles off me, and the crew resumes their mimosa-fueled brunch chaos, I’ve only half reassembled my brain. Carina fits in so well. Her laughter joins theirs, her dry remarks keep pace with Zoe, and she helps Meadow pour syrup without blinking.
I don’t touch her, not too much. A hand at the small of her back when I pass her the fruit. My fingers threading through hers under the table. Refilling her tea before she has to ask, switching the mug for fresh hot water when I notice she hasn’t taken more than a few careful sips.
At one point, her fingers pause around the handle, and she exhales low, eyes flicking shut for half a second.
“You okay?” I murmur, barely moving my mouth.
She nods, just as quiet. “Yeah. Just… smells.”
I casually get up, walk around the kitchen island, and crack open the window an inch to let the crisp air cut through thesweetness in the room. Our eyes meet, and something unspoken passes between us as she smiles softly.
A few minutes later, she slips down the hall toward the bathroom. I give it one minute, long enough not to be obvious, then I slip out of the dining room.
She’s just stepping back into the hallway when I find her, one hand braced lightly against the wall, shoulders relaxed but tired. Her eyes lift to mine at the same time.
“Hi,” I say quietly.
“Hi.”
I reach past her to straighten a crooked photo frame on the wall, my fingers brushing her arm as I do.
“You good?” I ask, voice low.
“Yeah.” Her smile is soft, a little worn. “Just needed a minute.”
I nod. “Too many people.”
“Yourpeople,” she corrects.
“They’re… a lot.”
“They are.” She huffs softly. “But they’re good.”
“They like you.”
She lifts a brow. “You sure?”
“Very.” I lean in, my mouth brushing the shell of her ear. “Even Gremlin, which is statistically impossible.”
She huffs a laugh, breath catching just enough to undo me. My hand settles at the curve of her waist without thinking, and I rest it there, letting her lean into me.
I want to do more. I want to press my forehead to hers and promise things I don’t have words for yet. But the hallway is full of noise and shadows, and I know if I touch her more right now, I’m not going to stop.
When she turns her head into mine, our noses brush. The kiss is brief, almost accidental. A soft, closed-mouth press that lingers for half a heartbeat too long.
I pull back first, lifting my thumb to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Her eyes search mine, and I see it. That quiet understanding that we’re standing on the edge of something neither of us is naming yet.
“Come on,” I say, just rough enough to cover the lump in my throat. “They’re trying so hard to be normal and not cuss, it’s physically painful.”
She smiles and steps back into my space just enough to brush her fingers against my wrist before we turn and head back.
And when we reenter the living room, Logan’s mid-sentence.
“—and that’s how I ended up with a thumb in my ass during the third period.”
An absolute silence fills the room, and every single person freezes as they realize Carina just heard his sentence. Even Theo, who is halfway into a bowl of marshmallows, looks up.
Logan blinks in our direction. “Oh, fuck. Uh, sorry. Not—like, not like that.”
