“Don’t act like you’re any better,” Catalina says, tossing him a dish towel. “You were on your knees earlier begg?—”
“Darlin’,” Carter warns, rubbing her belly when she passes.
The entire room hums with that familiar Hayes energy.
And right in the middle of it all is Layla.
She’s at the table with her sleeves rolled up, carefully arranging plates and laughing at something Amelia said.
Her hair’s down now, brushing against the collar of my flannel. There’s color back in her cheeks and a subtle spark in her eyes.
She laughs at something Maverick says now, and the sound nearly knocks the air out of me.
“Reed,” Catalina calls, breaking through my daze. “You just gonna stand there starin’ or help pass out drinks?”
I clear my throat. “Right. Drinks.”
Maverick smirks. “Bro’s in another galaxy.”
“Shut up,” I mutter, grabbing the pitcher.
Layla glances at me as I set a glass in front of her, that same little smile tugging at her lips. “Thanks,” she says quietly.
“Anytime, sunshine.”
When the food’s finally ready, everyone gathers around the table.
Catalina sets down a bowl with a triumphant grin. “Allright, nobody move till I say grace, or Maverick’s gettin’ another lecture on manners.”
“C’mon, I was starving,” he grumbles, but bows his head anyway.
Lunch becomes a blur of laughter and clinking silverware.
Maverick tries to convince everyone that he makes the best potato salad, until Amelia points out that it came from the store.
Carter shares a story about Leo learning to crawl and nearly getting into Cupcake’s water bowl, and about Catalina’s cry-laughing so hard she almost spills her tea.
And Layla is laughing with them, her shoulders relaxed and eyes bright.
She looks at me across the table, smiling in that gentle, private way. I don’t smile easily, but damn if she doesn’t make it look effortless.
Catalina notices, of course. “Layla, you look happier today,” she says, her tone genuine and warm.
Layla tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “I feel lighter, like I can breathe again.”
Carter nods, showing seriousness for a moment. “That’s all we want for you.”
The table falls quiet for a beat.
Maverick, unable to stand the silence, points his fork at me. “Reed’s finally smilin’ again, too. I was startin’ to think his face was stuck like that.”
“Keep talkin’, and I’ll feed you your fork,” I shoot back.
Everyone laughs.
I glance around the table—my brothers, their wives, and the people who make this old house feel like home—then back to her.
She fits in here as if she’s always belonged.
