My gaze flicks back to the banner, then to all the faces watching me like I’m someone worth celebrating, and the embarrassment in my chest twists into something else — something tight and warm and terrifying.
Pride.
Pride, and appreciation for my family. The family that shows up loud and weird and wholehearted.
I swallow, throat burning.
Evan steps closer, voice low. “Everything alright?”
“No. This is… mortifying.”
His eyes soften. “Good.”
I blink. “Good?”
“You deserve to be celebrated,” he says simply. Like it’s a fact. Like it’s obvious.
My chest squeezes. I’m not good at this part. I’m good at bar fights and sarcasm and keeping people at a distance. I’m good at surviving.
But this?
This is the part where you let people love you.
Where you let them in, let them see all of you, and hope against hope that they’ll keep loving you despite it.
Apparently, this collection of lunatics and misfits still loves me.
I stare at the banner for a second longer, and then I do the only thing my body knows how to do when it’s overwhelmed — I grab Evan. He responds, arms wrapping around my waist like he’s done it a thousand times. I grab his shirt and haul him down, and I kiss him hard right there in the hallway, under fluorescent lights and the judging eyes of academia.
One kiss becomes another, then another, and my hands leave his shirt to go somewhere round and firm and perfectly grabbable.
Somebody whistles. Loud.
Riley shouts, “GET IT, MOLLY!”
When I finally pull away, breathing hard, I press my forehead into his.
“You’re insane,” I whisper.
His mouth brushes mine in a kiss before he answers. “For you? Yeah.”
I should have a comeback.
I don’t.
Instead, I exhale and let myself lean into him, feeling light, whole, and loved. Then I straighten and glare at the group like I’m back behind the bar and they’re all about to get cut off.
“We are leaving,” I announce. “Before I get arrested for public indecency.”
“That was not indecent. It was borderline inspirational,” Riley says.
“Shut up,” I snap, but my voice cracks, and that gives me away. “I love you. Now, can we get this banner down and get the hell out of here? The bar’s supposed to open in a couple of hours and there’s work to do.”
June puts her hand on my shoulder. It’s quick, shy, gentle. “There’s still one more surprise.”
If it were anyone else, the prospect of another surprise would make me snap. But since it’s June, and since traces of what she went through still linger in her eyes, I smile. “What’s that?”
“It’s back at the bar. It’s nothing big, it’s just… I… I helped plan it.”
