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Cody rolled his eyes. “You all need a new phrase.”

TJ shut the door behind him. “It’s an ongoing town issue.”

Cody handed Savannah back, stepped into the kitchen, and clocked the court papers on the table. “So, you’re still standing.”

“Apparently,” Tanner said.

“That bad, huh?” Tanner gave him a look. Cody lifted a hand. “Right. No speeches.”

The food helped and so did Cody and TJ talking about everything and nothing.

Cody wiped his hands on a napkin and said, “You thought about work yet?”

Tanner looked at him. “You and Miles coordinating now?”

“No. This is just the town being nosy.” Cody leaned back in the chair. “Sarah needs help at the diner. One of the weekend girls bailed last week, and Pete’s nephew lasted two shifts before he decided mornings were disrupting his flow.”

TJ snorted as he shook his head. “His flow.”

“I’m so glad I missed this stage of growing up. Horses are much easier.”

Cody and TJ smiled at each other. “Freya does love you more than anyone else.”

“That’s because you feed her all the apples.”

He’d heard bits of Cody’s past and knew he didn’t often talk about it. “The diner?” Tanner prompted.

Cody shrugged. “It’s work. Cash coming in. People already know you, so it’s not starting from zero, and Sarah is good people.”

Tanner thought about it. The diner meant being seen. It meant being in the middle of town instead of passing around the edges of it. It meant regular hours, regular faces, regular reasons for people to talk to him. Every part of that made his body tense.

Cody saw it. “Or don’t. I’m not forcing you.”

Tanner stared at the table. “I’ll be shit at it.”

“No, you won’t, but you might hate the first week until you learn everything.”

“That’s not much better.”

“It’s the truth. First weeks can be tough.”

Savannah reached for a fry, found the carton empty, and looked at Tanner, pouting. Tanner handed her the last onion ring instead. She accepted it with a sigh.

Miles took a drink, then said, “You said running’s done.”

Tanner glanced at him. “Using my own words against me is low.”

“Still works,” Miles shrugged.

Tanner looked back at the table. The diner. The GED. Real things with schedules and people. He could already feel the instinct to duck them both and keep life small enough that nothing new could reach in and ruin it. That instinct had kept him moving for a long time and had built nothing.

“When does she need someone?” he asked.

Cody grinned. “Tomorrow morning if she can get it. But if you want to start after the weekend, I can tell her that too.”

Tanner grimaced. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”