“Kendra, right?” she said, her hand already extended, her tone steady.
Kendra took it, her grip firm and even. “Nova. I’ve heard about you.”
Nova’s mouth curved slightly, something amused settling just under the surface. “I would hope so,” she said. “I’ve been around long enough to earn a mention.”
Simone made a soft sound that landed somewhere between agreement and warning. “That’s one way to describe it,” she added.
Kendra glanced between them, like she was picking up on the history without trying to map all of it at once. “That usually means there’s a story,” she said.
“Oh, there are several,” Simone replied.
“Some of them even true,” Marcus added.
Nova didn’t look at either of them. She kept her focus on Kendra, composed in a way that read as easy unless you knew how much control it took to make it look like that.
“Well,” she said, a hint of humor threading through it, “you’re here now, so you’ll get your own version.”
Kendra nodded, accepting that without pressing. “I’m looking forward to it.”
Auntie Rhonda clapped her hands once, sharp enough to pull everyone back from the edge of whatever had started settling in. “All right, that’s enough,” she said. “We are not about to stand in my living room and unpack years of history when there is breakfast waiting on us. Everybody grab what you need. We’re on the move.”
“That’s the best thing you’ve said all morning,” Jerome said, already reaching for his keys.
“Says the person who has not contributed anything useful all morning,” Simone replied.
“I contributed awareness,” he said.
“You contributed noise,” Marcus corrected him.
“Same difference if you say it confidently,” Jerome shot back.
Things between us all picked up again, natural and practiced. Bags were lifted, phones checked, Marcus already asking about directions like he had no intention of trusting Jerome to get us anywhere without incident.
Nova turned to grab her bag, adjusting the strap over her shoulder with a small, precise movement that wouldn’t have registered to anyone who didn’t know her. I did.
She smoothed her hand once down the front of her dress, not fixing anything, just giving herself a secondto settle back into place. Her mouth held that faint, easy curve, the one most people read as her being unbothered, and her eyes stayed steady, not reaching, not retreating.
That was one of her tells. That version of her that showed up when something had landed deeper than she was willing to let anyone see. Most people missed it. I never did. And I knew exactly what it meant.
Jerome pushed up from his chair and clapped his hands once, like he had been waiting for an official moment to take charge.
“All right,” he said, looking around the room. “Who riding with who? Because I’m not about to be halfway to Lancaster realizing somebody got left standing on the sidewalk.”
“That has never happened,” Marcus said.
“It could,” Jerome replied. “Y’all be talking.”
“You drive like you’re narrating your own action scene,” Simone added. “We should be more concerned about arriving alive.”
“I drive with intention,” Jerome said.
“You drive with imagination,” Marcus corrected him.
Auntie Rhonda waved a hand like she didn’t have time for any of it. “Jerome, you’re driving your car. That’s already decided. Marcus, you go with him so somebody responsible is present.”
“I resent that,” Jerome said.
“You’ll survive,” Marcus replied, already reaching for his keys.
