He felt… centered.
They stayed at the table longer than necessary.
No one rushed to clean up. Plates sat half-stacked, coffee cooled slowly, sunlight shifting across the floor in lazy increments that made time feel optional.
Logan eventually leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms over his head with a low groan. “I should go to the gym.”
“You say that every Sunday,” Tommy said.
“And yet,” Logan replied solemnly, “I remain committed to theideaof fitness.”
Chase laughed under his breath, gathering plates despite Logan’s protest that he’d get them later. He moved easily through the kitchen, sleeves pushed up, humming along to the music like he wasn’t aware he was doing it.
Tommy watched him for a moment longer than he meant to.
There was a lightness to Chase now that hadn’t existed when they first met, something uncoiled. Less careful. Less like he was waiting to be evaluated.
Tommy knew that feeling.
He’d lived inside it for years.
Chase reached for the sink, then paused, shoulders tightening almost imperceptibly as his phone lit up on the counter.
He glanced at it once.
Then again.
The humming stopped.
Tommy recognized the shift immediately.
Not dramatic. Not obvious.
Just… inward.
Logan noticed too. Of course he did.
“You good?” Logan asked casually, drying his hands on a towel.
Chase hesitated, thumb hovering over the screen before locking it again. “Yeah. Just family stuff.”
He said it lightly, but the words landed heavier than he intended.
Tommy felt the instinct to fix it rise automatically, to joke, to redirect, to smooth the moment over , but Logan moved first.
Logan stepped closer, steady and unhurried, resting a hand briefly against Chase’s shoulder.
“You don’t have to solve everything today,” he said.
Simple.
Matter-of-fact.
No pressure.
Chase let out a breath that sounded like he hadn’t realized he’d been holding it.
“I know,” he said quietly.
