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"Okay," he says. "Talk to me."

I pick up the stocking. "Your mother put me in the lineup." I run my thumb along the gold thread. "She's planning the Cape house, room assignments. She asked when you're coming home for the summer."

"Briar —"

"When. Not if." I set the stocking down. "Your whole family expects you to move back to Boston when you retire."

Cameron is quiet. His jaw works. "I know what they expect."

"And you've never told them otherwise."

"It's complicated."

"It's not complicated, Cameron. You either plan to move back to Boston or you don't." I hear my voice hardening, and I can't stop it.

"I didn't want to have that conversation amid the chaos of them meeting my girlfriend and her playoff game.”

I swallow. “So there’s a conversation to be had? We’ve been in a huge hurry, and I own that I dove into whatever this is. But we need to talk about what we want. For us.”

He leans forward, elbows on his knees. "I'm trying to figure things out. The house is being renovated. I am thinking about the future. I just haven't —"

"Have you thought about my future?" The words come out sharper than I intend. "Because I know what mine looks like. I stay in Pittsburgh, near DD. That's not negotiable. That's not something I'm 'figuring out.'"

"I know that. I would never ask you to leave Pittsburgh."

"Then what happens? You retire. Your family needs you. Your dad's hip. Patrick's drinking. Your mom, who's been waiting, planning, and embroidering stockings." I gesture at the coffee table. "What happens to us?"

He runs his hands through his hair. "Maybe there's a way to —"

"To what?"

"To make it work. Long distance. Or —" He pauses, and I can see him problem-solving, the gears turning, the man who fixes things searching for a fix. “Man, I just wanted a break from this pressure. This constant, relentless need. I thought you and I could…”

“Yeah. I thought that, too. And it doesn’t feel like a good strategy anymore.”

The room goes cold, and his eyes snap to mine. “What are you saying? One minute you love me, and now what? I showed you my family, Briar, because I want them to know you.”

“You showed me your family because you wanted to go there anyway to check in on everyone. Right? Practical.” My hands shake. I grip my knees to steady them. "You sound exactly like Christopher. You know that? My ex said the same thing. Think about the practicality of this career.” I stand and flail my arms, feeling pent-up rage surge through my fingers. “He wanted me to choose, too. Find a ‘respectable’ career that wasn’t so inconvenient for him.”

"Briar." Cameron's voice is tight. Controlled. But I hear energy rising beneath the calm. "I am not your ex. I have never treated your career as an obstacle. Do not compare me to that man.”

"Then don't ask me to uproot my life!”

"I didn't ask you to move!”

We're both on our feet now. Puck has vanished.

"You want to talk about family obligations?" I say, knowing I'm about to cross a line and that I can't stop. "Your brothers are adults, Cameron. Patrick's drinking is not your responsibility. Ian's money problems are not your bank account's responsibility. Your mother's plan for your life is not something you owe her just because she raised you."

His face changes. The openness I've come to love — the tenderness, the quiet attention — shuts. Something moves behind his eyes, like a door slamming.

"Don't," he says. His voice is low and dangerous.

"You do everything for them, and they don't even see it. You send money. You fix problems. You show up. And they don't ask how you are, Cameron. They don't ask about your season, your house, or your life. They ask when you're coming home. Like you're a resource, not a person."

"You don't know my family."

"I spent two days watching them love you, but they also need you in an unhealthy way, and going back to Boston to martyr yourself for people who could figure it out without you —"