Carter’s black truck pulls in behind them with a bit more grace, although the man driving it still looks like he could bench-press the entire vehicle just to prove a point.
Catalina jumps out first, already mid-sentence about something Carter apparently did wrong five minutes ago.
Carter looks at her as if he would gladly spend eternity being scolded if it meant she kept talking to him.
They didn’t call.
They arrived assuming I was home. Apparently, no one in this family believes in knocking or decency.
“Did you seriously say ‘we’ll see’ after I planned the entire—oh, hi, Reed!” Catalina’s irritation flips into a bright smile the second she spots me.
“Hey, Cat,” I say, leaning on the porch railing as they approach.
Maverick lifts Leo higher onto his hip and squints at me, eyeing me up and down with his infamous shit-eating grin.
“What’s that in your pocket, bro?”
“Nothing,” I counter. “Worry about your son.”
Amelia snorts.
Maverick’s gaze drops again on the envelope shape pressed against my pocket. His brows lift, subtle but curious.
“Who’s writing you letters, man?”
Carter’s eyes follow as Catalina tries to hide her interest and fails immediately.
I shift my stance, casual even though my pulse decides to misbehave.
“Just mail.”
“Bills don’t smell like perfume,” Maverick says under his breath.
I clear my throat, keeping my voice measured. “It’s personal.”
Maverick nods once, though curiosity remains in his eyes.
“Fair enough,” he mumbles, adjusting Leo, who has begun shoving his fingers in Mav’s mouth.
“You all planning on invading my house again?”
Amelia gives a slight shrug. “You can say no if you want.”
I should, I could.
But they already made me feel better just by showing up.
“Door’s open,” I reply, pushing off the railing.
Maverick grins and heads toward the porch, holding on to Leo as he gnaws on his plastic football.
The laughter of my family fills the porch as they file inside, and the envelope in my pocket stays there like a spark I’m still afraid to protect out loud.
I just know, the next time I see her, my hesitation, pullback, and guilt about her being engaged will be gone; I don’t give a fuck anymore.
Ineedher.
layla
