Because as messy and complicated as life can get, as much as my parents might miss, there are people who see me.
And somehow, that’s enough.
• • •
Dinner with myparents requires emotional armor. Mom charges into conversations like a tank, and Dad sidesteps them by rambling about binocular specs and which RV campsite has the best bathrooms.
It’s in Traverse City, by the way.
But tonight is different.
Because tonight, Hayden will be waiting at the restaurant, meeting my parents officially as someone I’m…what, seeing? Dating? I still haven’t decided on the proper label for whatever this is, but I’ve spent the entire day with my stomach twisted in a nervous knot.
Stonevale Tavern glows when we walk in. Hayden outglows it, waiting at our table in a sharp black suit, holding a bouquet of white roses and peonies.
His posture is perfectly composed, but there’s a subtle tension in the way he adjusts the bouquet like it’s a shield. For a heartbeat, the sight cracks something open in my chest. Whatever lingering questions I had about city hall or folders dissolve instantly. Because Hayden Harlow, poised funeral director, former god of the underworld, master of control, is anxious about meeting my parents.
And somehow, that’s the most mortal thing I’ve seen him feel.
Mom practically vibrates, leaning in so dramatically she might as well whisper through a megaphone. “Oh, honey…he’s absolutely gorgeous.”
“Mom,” I snap, barely containing my cringe. “Please behave.”
Hayden spots us before I can warn him of the oncoming parental storm. He straightens the collar of his shirt, eyes finding mine in that quiet, anchoring way. Slowly, he steps forward and offers the bouquet to my mother with a charming smile that makes my stomach do that thing it does whenever I’m around him.
“Mrs. Wilder, it’s lovely to finally meet you,” Hayden says smoothly. “Levi speaks of you often.”
My mom’s cheeks glow a pleased pink as she graciously accepts the flowers. “Only good things, I hope. Thank you, Hayden. These are beautiful.”
Dad gives me the world’s least subtle thumbs-up.
Hayden extends a hand toward him. “Mr. Wilder, good to meet you.”
My dad shakes his hand enthusiastically. “Call me Bryan, son,” he says warmly, and the notion of him referring to an immortal god assonmakes me laugh. Hayden elbows me. “Anyone who brings my Junebug flowers deserves first-name privileges.”
Hayden smiles, shoulders visibly relaxing. “Bryan it is.”
“That bouquet looks…familiar,” I whisper when he finally pulls me into a hug.
“Naomi is a dangerously effective saleswoman,” he murmurs against my temple. “And you’re always preaching about shopping local. I was just following instructions.”
It’s not just the gesture, it’s the effort. He remembered, he listened, and he wanted to make a good impression. Leave it to Hayden Harlow to turn showing up for me into an art form.
As we settle into our seats, Hayden slides into place next to me, his leg brushing mine briefly under the table. The simple contact calms me.
My mother immediately shifts into interrogation mode, elbows braced on the table as if she’s conducting a high-stakes interview. “So, Hayden, Levi’s been very tight-lipped. Tell us, have you lived in Stonevale long?”
Hayden’s fingers twitch slightly against his wineglass, but his voice stays calm, steady. “Just over a decade, actually. Long enough to put down roots.”
It’s a perfectly ordinary answer. Too ordinary. I catch the tightness in his jaw, the way he swallows like the wordrootstastes strange to him. Of course it does. He’s lived forever, but here he is pretending a decade is an eternity.
“Roots are good,” Dad says earnestly. “Though I’m guessing funeral directing isn’t exactly…typical. What drew you to it?”
My throat tightens, and I watch Hayden carefully. His shadows ripple beneath the table, brushing gently along my ankle like they can sense the tension in Hayden before he can himself.
“It gives me a way to be there for people,” Hayden says softly, his eyes settling on mine. “At their hardest moments. When it feels like the world has forgotten them. It’s work that means something, even when it’s difficult.”
Mom looks impressed. “That’s beautiful, Hayden.”
