He draws the word out, but he drops the pepper into Crosby’s outstretched hand and retreats to the living room, where Violet and Charlie are watching a baking competition show. Crosby sets the pepper back on the counter before pulling the necessary bowls from the cabinets.
“Always the captain.”
The observation comes from Andy, sitting quietly on the barstool at the furthest end of the island, their camera raised in their hand. From their vantage point, the lens can observe the entire melee: cooking in the kitchen, games in the dining room, and the veggie battle. So far, their presence has gone relatively unnoticed. They float like a specter in and out of the space the group occupies, making idle chitchat and taking videos. This evening, I’ve managed to forget they were even here, a blessing and a curse. Now, I lift my eyes to them. Their hair has returned to a shade of blue. Not deep or vibrant, but softer like a cornflower.
“Someone has to keep the kids in line, make sure they’re okay,” Crosby acknowledges, pulling forks from the silverware drawer. I break from Nicky’s hold, picking up the bowls and taking them to the dining room, just in time to see Leo claim victory.
“Do you feel like that role has changed this season?” Andy asks as I set the dishes in front of empty chairs. Beside me, Leo shifts, a tense energy lighting through him. I glance back at Crosby, seeing him still for a moment, hesitating before he places the cutlery on the counter. My movements slow, waiting for his response to the thinly veiled question.
“I think we faced unexpected challenges, and we faced them as a team. Whether I was captain or not, the team’s response wouldn’t have been different,” Crosby answers, and I exhale. I flick my gaze to Nicky, checking in with him. He merely cocks his head, listening from where he leans against the counter. “Because we look after each other, on and off the ice. That’s what makes thisteamafamily.”
It goes quiet, the only sounds are Obie turning off the heat of the stove and Maeve putting the cards away. Andy finally hums, tucking away the camera, and rises from their seat. Everyone watches as they walk across the house and exit through the back sliding door.
“I will never get used to that,” Obie says, spooning the steaming stir fry into a large serving dish. “Thank God I’m too boring for television.”
I look at the closed glass door and hand the remaining bowls to Leo. “Finish setting the table, will you?”
“Sure.”
I start toward the door, only to be blocked by a concerned-looking Nicky. His brows are pinched, his arms crossed over his chest. He bends at the knee to look me in the eye, silently asking what I’m doing.
“It’s long overdue.” I pitch my voice low, so only Nicky can hear me, resting my hands on his forearms. “I owe them this, and I don’t want to spend the next two days with everyone feeling awkward just because they have a job to do.”
“I’ll talk to everyone. Explain why there’s some tension.” Nicky leans forward, giving me a quick kiss.
“Thank you,” I reply, stealing one more kiss before picking up my discarded sweater from a barstool and heading to the door.
The backyard isas impressive as the house. There are tiered levels leading down to the rocky shoreline of the lake. The first has an outdoor dining table and patio couches. The next boasts a massive fire pit and chairs before following boulder-lined steps to the last plateau of grass. The early-spring weather hasn’t fully warmed the garden enough to help many of the seasonal plants bloom or green the lawn yet, but I can picture it being stunning in another two months or so.
It’s past twilight, the sun setting over the horizon some time ago, but the yard is lit by numerous strands of bistro lights. The crisp evening breeze off the water blends with the aroma of balsam and pine from the surrounding trees, the leafy maples’ new leaves billowing gently. I pull my sweater on to ward off the chill before spotting a figure on the sofa to my left.
“Andy?” I warn as I approach. Their head is bowed, fingers flying across the screen of their phone. They tuck it away at my approach, then gesture to the opposite end of the couch, which I accept. I keep my back straight, my hands in my lap. “I owe you an apology.”
Their face screws up in confusion, lips parting. I cut them off before they can reply, needing to say everything I should have months ago.
“The night Nicky got hurt—all the way up until now, really—I haven’t been kind. Especially in the tunnel. I was unnecessarily rude to you, and I’m sorry,” I finish. Silence stretches between us, causing my stomach to churn uncomfortably. I try not to fidget, just accept that my apology might not be enough.
“This has been eating you up, huh?” Andy finally asks, leaning back casually. I give a nod. They swipe their thumb along their bottom lip. “Bea, you were doing your job.”
“But you were just trying to do yours!” I counter. “And I didn’t keep my head. I didn’t stay professional.”
“I don’t exactly blame you for that.” Andy chuckles. “It was more than a professional situation for you. I think I would have had an issue if you hadn’t been personal about it. You were protecting the man you love.”
“It shouldn’t excuse it.” I sigh, letting the fluffy couch cushions swallow me as I sink into them.
“Maybe not, but itexplainsit.” Andy smiles, and despite the lingering guilt, I feel lighter than I have in months. “Look, I love what I do—you know what that’s like. But sometimes that drive—my passion for it—can make me forget that I work with real people and tell real stories. I become too focused, and honestly, I know I pushed too hard that night. It probably made a difficult situation even worse.”
I wasn’t expecting an apology from them, and while that isn’t what Andy is offering, it feels like one. At the very least, it’s permission for absolution, and I take it. All I can do is offer them an understanding press of my lips as I consider their words.
I love what I do—you know what that’s like.
“I think I’ve got everything I need. Maybe this trip should be about the family now,” Andy suggests. “I’ll see you back in Connecticut, Bea. I’m really happy for you and Nicky. He’s a great guy.”
They leverage themselves up, with hands on their knees, giving a wave as they head inside. I give a feeble wave in return, then stare off into the haze where the golden glow of the lights meets the inky darkness beyond.
A blanket drapes across my lap. I follow the large hands setting a steaming bowl of rice and stir fry on the table in front of me, finding Nicky wrapped in his black jacket, looking down at me.
“Andy got their food twenty minutes ago.” He hitches a thumb over his shoulder to the house. “Didn’t want you to freeze or go hungry out here.”
