“Sorry. Habit,” he murmurs as his large hands grip the wooden back.
I nod, sitting down. He pushes my chair in before taking the seat next to me.
I pick up my glass of water to take a sip.
“So,” Mom begins, “Sophie says you’re on TikTok.”
I almost spit out my water. Milo’s head swivels in my direction with an amused look.
“Yeah, it’s kind of a creative outlet. I like sharing about my classroom,” he says, eyes lighting up. “The kids, the debates we have, those moments when history clicks for them—it’s something I didn’t expect to enjoy.”
He shrugs, grinning at me. “And it’s funny . . . somehowpeople actually enjoy watching it. I guess nerdy history teacher meets TikTok works better than you’d think.”
“I enjoy it,” Sophie says energetically. “Although, I wouldn’t exactly call you a nerd.”
Milo laughs. “I guess not around here.”
“You’ve been teaching for . . . ?” My mom trails off.
“This will be my third year,” he answers.
“Well, I’m sure the kids at Dusty Hollow High will love you. We need more teachers excited about what they’re doing,” Mom says before her eyes land on my dad. “Benji, do you mind saying grace before we eat?”
He nods.
I watch as everyone grabs for each other’s hands, then I look over at the space between Milo and me. His large palm is upward, fingers relaxed and waiting for mine to interlock.
I’m an adult.It’s not holding hands, not in the way we once did.
I place mine in his, feeling warmth engulf not just my hand but my whole body. I close my eyes, trying to focus on the words my dad is saying.
“Dear Lord, thank you for bringing us all together around this table, for keeping us safe and guiding our steps?—”
Milo’s thumb begins to lightly circle against my skin, and behind my eyelids I see two kids who once thought when they held each other, they held the world. Until shiny things were offered outside of Dusty Hollow, and how I do love a little glitter. Or at least, used to.
“Amen,” Dad says.
I quickly withdraw my hand, putting it in my lap.
Dinner continues with Sophie commanding most of the attention. Her latest idea? Buy a van and live in it for a year, traveling. My parents hate it, and Milo seems to have enough good sense to remain neutral on the subject.
“Sadie?”
I look up, realizing I’ve missed something. Everyone is looking at me.
“Did Grant Williams ask you out?” Emma asks.
I clench my jaw, directing my gaze at Sophie. “Yes, he did.”
“Grant’s a good guy. I always liked that kid,” Dad adds.
“He is,” I reply before scooting my chair back, legs dragging against the floor.
“Are you going to go out with him?” Emma asks, her green eyes gleaming with curiosity and something else I can’t quite name.
“I’m going to go get your Crocs from my car before I forget about them,” I say.
I leave the table without another word, breathing fully only after I step outside into the humid summer night. I stand there for a few seconds on my parents’ front porch.
