Tommy watched him move around the kitchen easily, grabbing plates without asking where they were, opening drawers like he’d always lived here. The quiet familiarity of it still startled Tommy sometimes.
Not in a bad way.
Just in ahow did this become realway.
Chase passed behind him and rested a hand briefly at the back of Tommy’s neck, absentminded and grounding, before reaching for forks.
The touch lasted barely a second.
It still settled something inside Tommy instantly.
He didn’t even notice himself leaning into it until Chase’s hand was already gone.
Logan noticed, though. Logan noticed everything.
Tommy caught him watching over the rim of his mug, soft-eyed, amused, completely at ease.
“What?” Tommy asked.
Logan shook his head. “Nothing.”
Which meanteverything, obviously.
They ate crowded around the small table, knees bumping, plates overlapping because none of them bothered with proper spacing anymore. Conversation drifted easily between topics, Chase complaining about a client at work, Logan arguing about gym programming like it was philosophy, Tommy chiming in mostly to keep them from escalating into friendly debate.
At some point, Tommy realized he wasn’t monitoring the room anymore.
He used to do that constantly, tracking reactions, adjusting himself, making sure he wasn’t too much or too quiet or too needy.
Now he just… existed.
Halfway through breakfast, his phone buzzed on the counter.
He ignored it at first.
It buzzed again.
And again.
Logan glanced over. “You gonna check that?”
Tommy sighed dramatically and stood, grabbing it.
Work messages.
Too many of them.
His shoulders tightened automatically as he scrolled, the familiar pressure creeping up behind his ribs, deadlines,expectations, the low hum of responsibility threatening to drag him out of the warmth of the morning.
He didn’t realize he’d gone still until Chase’s voice softened behind him.
“Hey.”
Tommy blinked.
Chase stood close now, not crowding, just present.
“You disappeared,” he said gently.
