Dad visibly relaxes, grasping at the lifeline she’s thrown. “It really is. Good choice, Junebug.”
I recognize their careful retreat.
“I’ll say,” I say, leaning forward with a smile that feels only half true. “I’m just glad Hayden finally has proof that I can appreciate a good red when I taste one.”
Hayden’s eyes linger on mine. “I never doubted you for a second.”
My mom laughs a little too brightly, relieved. “Good to know someone shares my faith in him.”
Beneath the table, Hayden’s shadows drift across my fingertips as if seeking permission to hold on. They wrap reassuringly around my palm, and I lean into them, grateful for their tenderness. I keep my hand there, thankful for something to hold on to.
“Well, Hayden, if you ever decide to take a break from funerals, June and I can offer a riveting alternative: bird-watching,” my dad says, raising his wineglass.
Hayden’s lips twitch into a subtle smile. “I’ll consider it.”
My mom pats Hayden’s hand fondly. “You’d be surprised how quickly it grows on you.”
The tension eases and my parents chatter about trails and their favorite birds. Hayden listens patiently, occasionally glancing at me as if to make sure I haven’t floated away.
Itdoesfeel good to have him see my parents, flaws and quirks and grief-stained hearts, and not flinch away. After dinner, we walk them back to The Nest, which they’ve parked in a designated RV spot near the edge of a birding preserve. You’d think Hayden had been asked to register for a campground membership based on the way he’s staring at it.
Mom unzips the side panel. “Isn’t it perfect?”
Dad is already holding up binoculars to the night sky. “You’re gonna love the dawn chorus,” he tells Hayden. “It’s a real treat. Real symphonic.”
“Looking forward to it,” Hayden says, overly cheerful.
Mom kisses my cheek, then holds me tightly. “He’s handsome,” she whispers, eyeing Hayden. “And funny, in that bleak, smoldering way. Good choice.”
“Okay,” I mutter, mortified. “Good night, Mom.”
Hayden shakes their hands, polite and patient. He even thanks my mom for the wine recommendation she absolutely didn’t let him ignore.
And then they disappear inside, probably unpacking bird guides and fiddling with an alarm clock guaranteed to go off at an hour even birds would protest. I watch their silhouettes through the glowing RV windows, moving about easily, comfortable in their tight little orbit of routine.
Walking back to town, Hayden breaks the silence first, his voice careful. “Your parents are…”
“Deranged?”
He chuckles. “Admirably energetic.”
“That’s an awfully generous way to put it,” I murmur.
“They love you,” he adds, sincerity softening his tone.
“They mean well.” Which has always been my code for:They try, in the only ways they know how.
He glances sideways at me, his pale eyes searching. “And you mean to protect them.”
I stop walking, the certainty in his words catching me off guard. “Is it really that obvious?”
Hayden doesn’t hesitate this time. His eyes lock with mine, unwavering and warm. “Levi, you shine brighter so they never have to face the dark.”
My breath catches painfully between my heart and throat. It’s the kind of truth that slips out, naming something I didn’t even know was exposed.
“No one’s ever said what I’ve always felt out loud before,” I whisper.
“Maybe no one’s ever taken the time to really see you,” he replies matter-of-factly.
