Page 107 of Love, Literature, and the Linebacker

I laugh quietly. “I hid in the bathroom.”

“And you came back.”

Maybe that matters more.

He kisses me once more. “Thank you.”

“Why are you thanking me?”

“For staying when today got uncomfortable.”

“I want to be here. Even when it’s complicated.”

He holds out his hand. “Then let’s go before my mom sends Gemma up to kidnap us.”

I squeeze his hand, ready.

As we make our way downstairs, the sounds of Kate and Gemma drift up from the kitchen—easy laughter, overlapping voices, and the clatter of dishes. It’s the kind of noise that wraps around you without trying, the sound of a family in motion. Preparing. Existing together.

I watch him carefully.

Dylan moves through this house like someone who knows exactly where he belongs.

His shoulders relax. His voice gets lighter.

Even the way he laughs feels different here.

I realize then that loving someone means stepping into a history that existed long before you arrived.

And the truth is, Dylan and I aren’t so different. We both come from families who love us. Even if the structure doesn’t look the same, the heart of it is.

We walk into the dining room just as Kate emerges from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. Her face lights up instantly.

“There you two are,” she says with a knowing smile. “I was about to come looking for you.”

Dylan grins, completely unapologetic. “We were just talking.”

Kate arches an eyebrow but lets the explanation pass. “Well, dinner’s almost ready. Sit. Relax. Gemma and I have it handled.”

Dylan pulls out a chair for me, and I take my seat, feeling oddly at ease. “Are you sure I can’t help?” I ask.

Kate shakes her head. “Not a chance. You’re our guest.”

Gemma appears then, carrying a platter of roasted vegetables. She sets it down and flashes me a grin. “Actually, Lucy, I was hoping you’d want to come with me tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” I echo.

“I volunteer at the food bank when I make it back home,” she explains casually. “It’s kind of my thing. I thought you might want to come with me.”

Dylan watches me with a smile, but this invitation doesn’t feel like something I earned through him. Gemma asked because she wants me there.

“I’d love that,” I tell her.

“Perfect,” she says brightly, clapping her hands once before disappearing back into the kitchen.

Kate returns moments later with the turkey, golden and fragrant.

“Breakfast was your father’s idea,” she says to Dylan. “He thought it would be easier than trying to make the whole day work. He said he’ll stop by to say goodbye before you and Lucy head home.”