“Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad. Missed you guys,” I whisper, my voice a little softer than usual. The weight of what happened with Gabriel is still there, tucked in the corners of my mind. But here, in this moment, it’s a relief to be surrounded by loved ones.
My family is everything to me. We’ve always been close, and even now that we’re adults, living our own lives and facing our own challenges, we still come together for moments like these. We make the effort because that’s what matters.
“Well, I guess Rue will get no choice in anything since he isn’t even here. And I’m starving!” Kenna exclaims, looking around for something to snack on.
Reuben, or Rue as we call him, has always been the laid-back one of the bunch. He’s the sibling closest to Kenna, and they’vealways shared a special bond. Me? I’m closest to Asher. We get each other in a way no one does.
Lucie, on the other hand, is the wildcard—the one who can charm anyone in the room with just a simple smile. It’s hard to stay mad at her, no matter what she does.
We settle in the living area, and we break out the board games. Laughter fills the room as we play, the same banter I’ve known all my life flowing freely. It’s moments like this that remind me how much I love my family. We get competitive, sure, but there’s no pressure. Just pure joy in each other’s company.
Lucie wins, of course. The reigning champion.
“You guys just can’t handle how amazing I am,” she says, flipping her hair back dramatically, the smirk on her face a dead giveaway.
Asher, never one to let things go lightly, hurls a pillow at her.
“Ash, stop. You’re right, Lulu we can’t handle it. But that doesn’t mean we have to act like children when we lose, right?” Kenna states, giving him a pointed look.
The whole room bursts into laughter.
These are the nights that stitch you back together when life pulls you apart.
Reuben walks in then, bearing bags full of favorite foods. The smell of freshly baked bread, marinara sauce, and Italian herbs fill the air, making everyone groan with hunger. It’s a carb lovers dream and also the exact kind of love language this family understands.
“Okay, I can’t wait any longer. Let’s eat or I’ll riot,” Kenna says, and we dive into the spread.
We pile into the kitchen and attack the spread like wolves. Plates fill fast, and conversation flows even faster. Old stories resurface—Asher’s infamous treehouse fall, Lucie’s glitter-glued diary pages, Kenna’s brief obsession with becoming a ventriloquist. There’s teasing, laughter, full-belly joy.
And for a while, nothing hurts.
Eventually, as the night winds down, people scatter to theirchildhood bedrooms like it's a sleepover. Mom sets out fresh towels. Dad checks that all the doors are locked—twice.
I’m in my old room, fluffing a pillow that still smells vaguely like teenage rebellion, when Kenna pushes the door open without knocking.
“Mills, talk to me,” she says, shutting the door.
I look up, forcing a smile. “Talk about what?”
“Gabriel,” she says lifting a brow.
I sigh, pushing my comforter back. I know Kenna means well, but sometimes, her persistence is more of a pressure cooker than a support system. But Kenna doesn’t give up. She never does.
“Ken, I told you there’s nothing to talk about.”
“Nope,” she cuts in, crossing her arms and sitting at the foot of the bed. “You’ve been weird all night. Quiet. You have that face on. The ‘I’m fine but secretly falling apart’ face.”
I glance down, trying to dodge the weight of her gaze. “I told you, we’re trying to work things out. I just…need more time.”
Kenna sits on the bed, crossing her arms. “Yeah, you’ve beenneeding timefor weeks. At some point, you have to call it what it is. Either you’re in, or you’re not. Why are you making it harder than it needs to be?”
Her words sting. Not because they’re harsh, but because they’re true. She’s never been one to sugarcoat. And she’s not wrong.
“I just…said things that I don’t know if I can take back,” I admit. “Harsh things. And I don’t know how to fix that. I don’t even know if Ishould.”
Kenna watches me for a moment, and then her voice softens. “You’re scared, Mills. You’ve been scared of letting yourself be happy. Ever since you ended things with Connor.
I flinch at the name.
