My gaze drifts past her, scanning the room.
I spot Phoebe, Shane, and Imani’s wife. Then—
My breath catches.
All four of my siblings.
For a second, I can’t move. Can’t think. My eyes sting before I even realize what’s happening, my vision blurring as it all crashes over me at once.
Above the bar, the rainbow Pride flag and the bi flag hang side by side, catching the warm light. Troy put them up a few weeks ago, right after we went public. I remember the fallout—the muttered complaints, the customers who stopped coming.
But I remember the ones who came after too.
The ones who walked in with relief written all over their faces. The scared queer folks who drove in from miles out, just to have somewhere safe to exist for a few hours. The quiet thank-yous. The way this place slowly became something more than just a brewery.
And now, it’s full of everyone I love.
“Yo, Ash!”
I barely have time to react before Luke slams into me, wrapping me up in a hug that nearly knocks the air out of my lungs.
“It’s about damn time!” He laughs against my shoulder. “I’m starving.”
Somewhere behind me, Troy snorts. “Sorry we’re late,” he calls. “Someone was stinky and needed a shower.”
“Hey—” I start, but it comes out weak, dazed, my arms still slowly coming up to hug Luke.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, pulling back enough to look at him. My voice wobbles. “Why aren’t you at Mom and Dad’s?”
Before he can answer, Olivia steps up beside him, Justin and Chloe close behind. She squeezes my arm, then nudges me gently toward the table.
“We didn’t want to go anywhere you aren’t welcome,” she says simply.
My vision blurs completely, my chest tightening so fast it almost hurts.
“Are you serious?” I manage, my voice breaking.
Chloe wraps her arms around me from the side. “Duh. You’re our brother.”
Justin nods, quieter but just as sure. “We’ve got you, bro. Always.”
Everyone crowds the makeshift dining table, eager to dig in. Chairs scrape against the floor. Troy’s hand grabs mine, warm and steady, and gives a gentle tug.
“C’mon,” he urges.
I let him guide me to the table, still a little dazed, my chest full in a way I don’t know what to do with. He pulls out a chair for me at the very end—one of the head spots—before taking the one beside it.
In front of me sits a plate, neatly arranged silverware, and a can of Cherry Moon cider. The aluminum is cold in my hand when I pick it up, condensation beading against my fingers. I stare at it for a second before setting it back down, my throat tight again.
Around us, everyone settles in, filling the seats, passing dishes down the long stretch of tables. The room buzzes with warmth—voices overlapping, laughter bubbling up, the clink of serving spoons against ceramic.
Imani catches my eye from across the table, her expression soft. “I hope you’re hungry,” she says with a grin. “I might’ve gone a little overboard.”
I let out a quiet laugh, blinking away the last of the tears threatening to spill. “Thank you,” I choke out. “Seriously.”
She waves it off like it’s nothing, already turning to pass a dish down the line.
“You heard her,” Luke says loudly, already reaching for the nearest plate. “Time to dig in before I pass out.”
