Ah. We’ve swerved.
“Wow,” I say. “No warm-up? Just straight to emotional excavation?”
She tilts her head. “You can deflect if you want.”
I consider it. Reflex says yes. Mouth opens.
Then something else wins.
“They are…” I say instead, “well, complicated’s generous. My mom, Maeve, she’s great in public,” I continue. “Big heart. Big laugh. The kind of woman who remembers everyone’s birthday and forgets how she hurt you last week.”
Aurora nods slowly, like she knows this type.
“She loves loudly,” I say. “Just… inconsistently.”
“And your dad?” she asks gently.
I snort. “Declan Reilly. Big personality. Bigger disappointments. He taught me how to tell a good story and how to expect people to leave before they say goodbye.”
“That’s… a lot,” she says.
“Yeah,” I agree. “Got an older brother who chases the next high like it owes him money. Callum. And a younger sister, Siobhan. Sharp tongue. Tired eyes. I keep my distance so she doesn’t have to carry me too.”
Aurora’s quiet.
“My mom’s Lynn,” she says. “Very practical. Very ‘we move on now.’ She loves me. I know that. She just doesn’t know how to sit in grief. It makes her itchy.”
I smile faintly. “Grief is inconvenient.”
“Exactly.” She exhales. “My dad, Graham, he’s charming. In bursts. Sends birthday texts. Avoids hard conversations like they’re contagious.”
“Ah,” I say. “The drive-by parent.”
She laughs softly. “And then there was Evie. My grandmother. She was… home. Warm hands. Sharp mind. She taught me kindness with teeth.”
I love that phrase. I file it away.
“She sounds incredible,” I say.
“She was,” Aurora says. “And she had a secret history here. In Coyote Glen. I’m still figuring out what that means.”
The wind picks up, cold and honest.
“I didn’t expect you to stay in my head,” I say suddenly, letting far too much truth out.
She turns to me. “What?”
“After that first night,” I clarify, trying for casual and missing by a mile. “I figured you’d be a good memory. A great one. But temporary.” I shrug.
“And now?”
“Now,” I say, “I catch myself looking for you in rooms. Wondering what you’d say about things. That’s not my usual pattern.”
She studies me, eyes thoughtful. “Does that scare you?”
I laugh under my breath. “Terrifies me.”
She smiles, gentle and knowing. “You don’t like silence, do you?”
