You don’t rush joints like this. You let them set. You reinforce them. You build them to last.
“I just want her to know that if she ever has a day where she’s not fine…” I pause. “She doesn’t have to explain it. She can just tell me where to show up.”
Sebastian smiles. “That’s dangerous.”
“Why?”
“Because one day she will.”
The words hang in the sawdust-filled air and something in my chest tightens. Not fear, but maybe anticipation. I look down at the table again.
Steady, measured, built to hold weight.
“Then I’ll be there,” I say simply.
“You know you can’t fix her though, right?” Killian asks, a serious expression on his face.
“I’m not trying to fix her. Plus, she’s not broken. She’s just…chipped,” I say thinking back on her affinity for chipped teacups. “And I want to be the one who gets to stand beside her while she works through whatever pains her. I want to be the one who holds her up. The one she feels safe with”
Sebastian gives me a look that says he sees more than I want him to. “Just make sure you’re taking care of yourself too, bro.”
“I’m fine,” I tell him automatically.
Killian snorts. “Said every Haynes man right before imploding.”
“Look who’s talking,” I shoot back, referring to the anxiety issues Killian’s had for years, but there’s no heat in my voice.
Bishop picks up a piece of sandpaper and starts working on the other end of the table. For a few minutes, we fall into a familiar rhythm, the four of us moving around each other like we’ve been doing it our whole lives. Because we have.
“I just mean,” Killian continues, his voice softer now, “you’ve always been the one who tries to absorb everyone else’s problems. From the time we were kids, you were taking hits meant for us. Literally and figuratively.”
“That’s what older brothers do,” I mutter, focusing on the grain of the wood beneath my fingertips.
“You’re older by four minutes,” Sebastian reminds me with a snort.
“Four very important minutes,” I counter, “and anyway, I’m just…I’m trying to be patient.”
“Patient?” Killian laughs. “You? The guy who used to throw the controller when he died in Mario Kart?”
“Bro, that was you.” I laugh. “Always you.”
Bishop chuckles next to me. “Shep’s right. And you were sixteen, bro. Not eight.”
Kill rolls his eyes. “Whatever. People change.”
Bishop looks up from his sanding. “They do,” he agrees quietly turning to me. “But sometimes the things that scare them don’t.”
His words sink into me deeper than I want them to. What if Sutton never stops being afraid of whatever’s holding her back? What if those walls never come down? The thought makes my chest tighten, but I push it away. I need to focus on what’s in front of me right now.
“So, what are you going to do when you see her again?” Sebastian asks, picking up a small piece of wood and turning it over in his hands.
I shrug. “Act normal. Let her know I’m not expecting anything. In fact, I was kind of hoping maybe tomorrow you guys might want to come with me to Alley Tap.”
Killian scoffs. “Because you need a buffer?”
“No.” I shake my head, running my thumb along the gritty sandpaper. “I don’t want her to think I’m looking for anything…physically, I mean. If I show up there alone, she might think I want to take her home and do more than kiss her.”
“Don’t you?” Bishop asks with an innocent shrug. “I mean, you like the girl.”
