Dad nods approvingly. “Sounds heavy, though. Ever consider something lighter?”
Hayden gives a genuine smile. “I think your son’s providing enough ‘lightness’ in my life at the moment.”
My heart skips, heat climbing the back of my neck. Mom catches my eye, looking dangerously pleased.
“Well,” my mom continues, her expression thoughtful. “Stonevale must agree with you. Although, forgive me for staring, but…have we met before? You looksofamiliar.”
My breath catches. For a fragile second, Mom studies Hayden’s face a little too closely, her eyes narrowing as if she’s sorting through faded photographs or half-forgotten memories. Something like recognition settles, for a moment, but unmistakable enough to send a pulse of panic through my chest. Of course she might recognize him, even subconsciously. Hayden would have carried our family’s grief before, tending to the loss my parents still can’t bear to speak aloud.
Hayden meets her eyes, his expression carefully neutral even as his shadows circle my ankle. “It’s possible,” he answers smoothly. “I’ve been in Stonevale awhile. Maybe we crossed paths.” He offers a polite smile, easing gracefully out of his seat. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment.”
Hayden leaves, and I’m adrift with years of things we still don’t know how to say.
I clear my throat, fingers drumming against my wineglass.
Mom gestures toward the waiter for another round of bread as if brokering an international negotiation. “It’s been ages,” she says, glancing around the restaurant like she’s seeing Stonevale for the very first time. “Doesn’t it all feel different?”
I tear into the roll harder than necessary, voice sharper than intended. “Not different. You just haven’t been here.”
She pauses, her smile faltering before snapping neatly back intoplace. “Well, your father and I like to keep moving these days. Change is good.”
“We’re spontaneous now,” Dad chimes in, unaware how ironic it sounds coming from people who schedule spontaneity around bird migrations and RV hookups.
I try to smile but it feels forced.
My mother waves a hand, brushing the subject along. “After retirement, we decided life’s too short to stay stuck.”
Stuck.
The word lodges painfully in my chest. Because what she means is they were stuck here. With me and the grief they tried to outrun.
I set my bread down carefully, fingertips pressing hard against the table.
“Stuck,” I echo, my voice splintering on the word, suddenly too fragile.
Mom freezes mid-reach for her wineglass, realization settling across her face a moment too late. “Levi, sweetheart, I didn’t mean—”
“You know what? Forget it,” I course correct. The old script finds me, my voice brightening on command.
My dad shakes his head gently. “No, Levi. That’s fair…”
“Seriously, Dad…Mom, please. It’s okay, really.” I force a smile. I lift my glass swiftly. “Anyway, new base camp? Tell me everything. Still over at Pine Brook Trail?”
Dad’s gaze flickers uncertainly between my mother and me, and I can see the moment it lands. That look of recognition when he realizes I’m doing it again. Playing the sunshine son. The one who smooths edges, redirects conversations, makes sure nothing gets messy.
Mom’s eyes narrow slightly, but not in anger. Something softer. A quiet ache behind her carefully arranged smile.
“Oh, Levi, you should see the herons out there,” my mom says, pivoting once again to safer territory. “I think they’re nesting!”
“Thrilling,” I manage.
She leans in closer as she shifts from one subject to the next. “Hayden seems…lovely.”
“Yeah. Fascinating fellow, son,” Dad echoes, nodding eagerly.
As if summoned by his name, Hayden reappears, and my pulse steadies as he slips into the booth beside me.
Mom clears her throat, her fingertips smoothing imaginary wrinkles in the tablecloth. When she finally looks up again, her smile is back in place, like fine china glued hastily back together. “And this wine,” she says, taking another sip. “Absolutely delicious, right?”
