“Shit,” Porter mutters, sincerity coloring his tone. “I’m so sorry.”
Zane exhales heavily, running a hand over his face. “Seriously, that was incredibly thoughtless of me.”
“No, really, it’s okay,” I assure them quickly, smiling even though the thought of my brother and the life he could have had makes my chest feel tight. “I mean…I’m getting better at talking about him. It’s good for me. I want to remember him, you know? I’d rather feel it than forget.”
There’s a quiet pause. Porter’s gaze drifts between Hayden and Zane, a complicated expression crossing his face. Regret, maybe longing, something deep and guarded that I’m not sure he’s ready to name yet. Then, clearing his throat, he meets my eyes again, voice sincere.
“You’re braver than most of us, then.”
Zane recovers quickly, sliding back into his usual easy charm. “And you’re certainly too wise for Hayden,” he teases softly.
My smile widens. “Excuse me. Where do you think I picked up all my best moves?”
Under the table, Hayden’s fingers find mine. I squeeze back, grounding myself in his quiet comfort.
I watch as Zane’s gaze shifts slowly between us, eyebrows lifting slightly with dawning understanding. “I get it now,” he murmurs, voice softer than before. “Why you told him, brother.”
A subtle, weighted stillness settles around us and Hayden nods once, certain, as though there had never been another choice. He runs a hand through his hair. “He deserved to know. And honestly, I needed him to.”
His admission hangs in the air, raw and unguarded. It’s the first time I’ve heard him admitneedout loud where others could hear it. Zane nods slowly, eyes filled with warmth. “Good. You deserve to let someone in.”
Hayden stiffens, caught between defensiveness and vulnerability. His shadows flicker, reacting to the shift in his mood, and I watch as the balance between the brothers becomes clear. Zane bold and charismatic, pushing at boundaries with endless charm; Hayden quietly steady, absorbing everything around him, holding it close; and Porter, gently guiding their opposite personalities toward calmer waters.
“You should’ve seen Hayden during the Renaissance, Levi,” Porter deadpans. “An absolute nightmare.”
Zane snorts. “He brooded through the entire fifteenth century. Constant existential crisis, better clothes.”
Hayden nearly chokes on his wine, sputtering into his napkin. “I was reflective, thank you very much. It was a…complicated time.”
Laughter fills the room, easy and warm. The teasing, the ease…this feels like family.
A little dysfunctional, undeniably godlike, but real all the same.
By the time dinner is over and the dishes are mostly cleared, the atmosphere has settled into something effortlessly comfortable. Hayden and Porter have drifted into the living room, finishing their wine and reminiscing. It’s a sight I never thought I’d witness. Hayden laughing likethis, his posture loose, his shadows barely stirring. Porter, despite his earlier distance, is leaning into the conversation now, telling some ridiculous story from centuries ago.
And from the kitchen, Zane, elbow deep in soapy water beside me, interjects every few minutes, correcting the record like the eldest brother he positions himself to be.
“That’s absolutely not how it happened,” he calls over his shoulder, flinging suds from his fingers as I stack the last of the dishes. “Did your memory degrade after the Act or were you always this unreliable?”
Porter scoffs. “I was there.”
“And yet you’re wrong.”
Hayden shakes his head, pouring more wine. “That’s his mayoral campaign slogan, by the way.”
Zane sighs with extra flair, tossing the towel onto the counter. “One time…one time!…I get unanimously reelected without even campaigning, and suddenly I have a god complex.”
Porter side-eyes him. “You don’t see the irony of that sentence?”
Zane points at him. “Irrelevant.”
“Hate to break it to you, but you’re not ruling Olympus anymore,” Hayden teases, sipping his wine. “Let’s hop down from that high horse.”
I stifle a laugh, wiping down the counter. This is what I’dalways envisioned growing up with siblings would be like. Teasing, affectionate, laced with history. My heart aches for the relationship with my own brother that was stolen from me…but seeing this, seeing the three of them, soothes that ache a little.
Zane turns to me then, arms crossed, leaning against the counter. His eyes flick over my careful arrangement of the plates, the lingering scent of rosemary and candle wax in the air.
And just as casually as if he’s asking for the time, he says, “You know, I never thought I’d see the day.”
