Hadley looks between us, then announces, “I’m hungry,” like she’s settling the argument.
“Yeah, you are,” I say, pushing off the dresser. “Give me a minute.”
Jace nods and steps back, not lingering, not pushing, just moving like he trusts we’ll follow.
That confidence should irritate me.
It doesn’t.
I finish unpacking enough to get us through the night, moving quicker now, less hesitant, like the decision’s already been made even if I haven’t said it out loud.
“Come on,” I say, holding out my hand.
Hadley takes it, and we head back out.
The kitchen is already set, plates on the island, food still warm, like he expected us to show up without asking twice.
I stop on the opposite side of the island, not retreating, just choosing my ground.
“You plan everything this far ahead?” I ask.
He turns slightly, meeting my gaze. “Only the parts that matter. If you don't show up I have food for a week.”
Hadley climbs onto a stool, already focused on the food. “This looks really good.”
Jace slides a plate toward her. “Try it first.”
I watch him for a second, the way he moves, the way he doesn’t crowd, doesn’t hover, doesn’t make a show of any of it.
“You don’t have to do this,” I say again, but there’s less push in it now, more observation.
“I know,” he says. “I want to.”
That lands cleaner than it should.
I pick up a fork and sit across from Hadley, not avoiding him, not closing the space either, just… there.
And the tension settles in again, quieter this time, less like something I’m fighting and more like something I’m starting to understand, steady and constant. Like it’s not going anywhere no matter what I decide to do with it.
Hadley breaks it first, sliding off the stool with restless energy. “Can I see the porch again?”
“It’s dark.”
“There’s lights.”
Jace looks to me, leaving it in my hands.
“Stay where we can see you.”
“I will.”
She slips outside, the door creaking, I can hear her climb up on the porch swing. The room tightens the second she’s gone, quieter, closer, harder to ignore him.
“You always this stubborn about help?” he asks.
“Only when it comes with expectations.”
“It doesn’t.”
