Paige's POV
The dining room smelled like garlic and rosemary. My mother had set out the good china—the white dishes with the blue flowers that only came out for holidays and "important" dinners.
I sat with my hands in my lap, staring at the empty chair across from me. The one with the chipped vase in front of it.
That's Cayson's seat. My mother never moved the placements.
Then I heard it: tires on gravel. A car door. His voice, low and warm, drifting through the front door before I could see him.
My parents excused themselves from the kitchen and hurried to the foyer. I heard my mother's happy cry—"Cayson!"—the muffled sound of a hug.
I didn't move.
My fingers curled into the fabric of my jeans. My chest tightened. Don't. Just breathe.
By the time everyone sat down, David had added something new: a prayer before the meal. I closed my eyes through it, then let the first bite of pot roast hit my tongue. Sure, I'd had pot roast while away, but never like my mother's.
For a few minutes, the only sounds were cutlery on china. The silence pressed against my ribs.
"So," I said, just to break it. "Jenna's fiancé?"
My mother clapped her hands together. "Oh, he's delightful. A wonderful addition to our family." She poured herself a glass of wine—her second, I noticed. "He's some big shot at the hospital."
"Big enough not to listen," David mumbled.
I glanced at him, hoping for more. None came. He continued eating as if he hadn't spoken.
"Dad's just mad because Myles paid for everything," Cayson said. A low chuckle.
David grumbled something about family and what's right.
Well. Looks like David met his stubborn match.
Dinner moved along. Light conversation. No one asked about my life in Los Angeles—though my mother did ask about Sasha. I answered in short sentences and kept my eyes anywhere but across the table.
Still, I noticed. Cayson had matured. The lanky boy with baby fat was gone. Strong jaw. Stubble. His eyebrows seemed permanently pinched, like something always displeased him.
I didn't look long enough for him to catch me.
Old habits pulled me up from the table. I started clearing dishes, moving around the others while they talked. I steered wide of my mother's wine glass and the almost-empty bottle beside her.
The kitchen was familiar. The hum of the sink, the weight of a plate in my hands. I washed and rinsed on autopilot, letting the rhythm settle something in my chest.
Boots approached from behind.
I turned, smiling, ready to tell David I'd enjoyed dinner.
It wasn't David.
Caramel-brown eyes. Cayson stood close, his own wine glass in hand. He set it in the sink.
"So," he said quietly. "We're just going to pretend everything's fine?"
I raised an eyebrow. "I'm not sure what you mean."
Don't. Don't give him anything.
Cayson exhaled. "So, that's how it's going to be."
There was no question in his tone, so I kept quiet.
"Damn it, Paige. You know exactly what I mean." His stare hardened.
"Everything's fine."
I couldn't say his name. Not yet.
He stepped closer. I stepped back. His mouth opened, then closed—like he had too much to say and nowhere to start.
Then chairs scraped the floor. Footsteps.
David rounded the corner first. His brows lifted, but he said nothing.
"Oh, look, David!" My mother's voice, slightly hazy. "It's just like when they were kids."
She's feeling that wine.
David gave Cayson a long look, then took Mom's arm and guided her toward the stairs.
We were alone again.
"Well," I said, already moving. "I forgot something in the car."
It started as an excuse. Then I remembered Sasha's text.
The trunk popped open. After some digging, I found it: a wooden box, one of Sasha's woodworking experiments. No regular lock—just her usual over-complicated system of sliding panels and hidden tabs.33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxCPzQOsog6
I fought with it for a minute before the lid finally gave.
Then I almost laughed.
Of course. Sasha had packed for two weeks like she expected me to hibernate. Small tubs, plastic packaging, enough to last a month. Driving across state lines with this in my trunk? Stupid. Dangerous. So perfectly Sasha.
"Damn," I muttered, pulling out a tube. "You got me supplied for a month, not two weeks."
I tucked the box back into hiding, then sat back against the bumper, breathing out slowly.
This was going to be the perfect end to a day like today.33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtySmBYghJV
and then Add to home screen.