22
ABBY
Theo babblesas he bangs around plastic blocks, finally hitting the tower I built just for him. It topples and he lets out a shriek of glee that makes my chest go soft. It’s his current favorite thing: destroying block towers I make him.
I sit cross-legged on the porch beside him, one hand pressed flat to the sun-warmed wood like I need to steady myself. Everything feels steady here. Quiet in a way that creeps up on you—soft breeze, distant lawn mower, the occasional flutter of birdsong. The kind of quiet that gets under your ribs and makes you ache before you know why.
Inside, Mason’s on the phone. I can’t hear the words, just the low timbre of his voice. I pick up something about a busted Civic and my brother’s name.
I close my eyes for half a second. Breathe.
I’ve been here for a week.
Not officially. Not permanently. Not in a way that makes sense on paper. But long enough that Mason stopped asking me if I’m coming over the next morning every night I leave. Long enough that Theo reaches for me without hesitation. Longenough that I don’t flinch anymore when I hear tires on the gravel driveway to my cabin.
It’s dangerous, how easy this is. How good it feels.
How much I don’t want to leave.
The screen door clicks open behind me, and I crane my neck to look at him.
Mason Porter fills out a doorway in a way that should be illegal. All broad shoulders and tanned forearms, worn blue jeans and a faded black t-shirt hugging his frame. He’s got a look on his face like he’s just walked into a room and forgotten why, but when he sees me, that line between his brows smooths out.
He sticks his phone into his pocket and stoops to the porch, picking up a stray block and rolling it between his fingers. “That was Beau,” he says, like it’s a normal thing, like my brother isn’t the human equivalent of a warning siren.
I arch a brow, bracing for whatever comes next. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, just some new guy at The Alley, needed a consult on a racing strategy. He’s a new up-and-comer, trying to shave ten seconds off his lap time. Beau’s stopping by with Vivie soon, since Eloise is heading to book club.” He rolls the block toward Theo, knocking into the little tower I was making. It falls down, much to Theo’s delight.
“Yeah, I should probably go then.”
His eyes flick to Theo, then to me. “You don’t have to rush.”
But I do. I’m not supposed to be here.
Theo lets out a dramatic yawn and crawls over my leg. I brush his hair back and exhale. “I’ll be back later. What are you guys up to tomorrow?”
It’s an innocent enough question, but my heart doesn’t get the memo, kicking into an uneven rhythm as I wait for his response.
“Hanging out with you.”
He says it like it’s a dare, the edge of his mouth twitching, but there’s no sarcasm in it. I almost laugh, but the sound catches in my chest. I can’t look at him, not with the sun hitting the porch and Theo’s arms wrapped around my ankle making my heart do high-speed donuts in my ribcage.
“Great because Theo and I already made plans to sing along to theHamiltonsoundtrack. He seemed pretty into my dramatic reenactment the other day.” I’d been toying around with my new guitar, which plays like an absolute dream. I still can’t believe that I got it for such a steal.
“Sounds like our afternoon is all set then,” Mason says, flashing me a smirk.
My phone vibrates in my back pocket, and I pull it out to see the calendar reminder notification.
“I’ve got to head out anyway, or I’ll be late,” I murmur, dropping a kiss to the top of Theo’s head. “But I’ll be around later if you need me.”
“Need a ride?” Mason asks, reaching over and scooping up Theo off my leg. He drops a couple of noisy kisses to Theo’s neck, making him giggle.
Why is that so hot?
I clear my throat and stand up, brushing my hands over my jean shorts just to give them something to do. “Nah, I’ve got a ride. Thanks though.” I scheduled an Uber.
“Alright. See you later, Trouble.”